| presents excerpts from |
| CHAPTER 11 A TIME TO DIE |
ISBN 0-9778140-0-9
326 pages, 68 photographs.
326 pages, 68 photographs.
....By 10PM we were alone, just as we had spent so much
time over those past eleven years. It was as it should have
been—we had started this journey together long ago, and
now the two of us were to complete it.
The finest person I had ever known, or known of, was
about to pass away. As she had humbly set a model of how
a good life is lived, she now calmly demonstrated how the
inevitable end is graciously accepted. This joyful lady had
so happily awaited the birth of her five children and loved
them all so much from day one on through the end of her
life. She had taught us all that life is to be enjoyed and to
appreciate all the simple little things along the way; to be
grateful for what we have; to have an optimistic and
positive attitude; to help our fellow beings; to smile and
laugh and love; and so much more.
Nurses came in at intervals to offer any assistance they
could. They also brought in a tray with coffee and water.
Out of consideration, they had moved out my mother’s
roommate; I had that bed available if I needed to rest.
Bernice was very popular with the nurses and CNAs due to
her near-perpetual smile or laugh, the sparkle in her eye,
and her habit of reaching out to help others—literally
reaching out from her wheelchair when someone passed
her who was in despair. No matter how advanced the AD
became, it never diminished her compassion for suffering
people.
The aides always enjoyed feeding her in the dining room
because she had a good appetite and made their job easy.
They would raise a spoon of food to her lips, and she
would open her mouth to readily take it in, just like a baby.
Some difficult residents would keep their mouth closed, or
spit out the food once it was in their mouths. So, every aide
or assisting nurse wanted the job of feeding Bernice.
Hospice assistance at this point was in the medications
provided, and instruction given to Bernice’s nurses on
administering them. I know that Mother and I both
appreciated that help very much.
About midnight, I told Mother again that I loved her, and I
thanked her so much for being my mother. It was
becoming harder and harder to hold the tears in, but
thankfully there were as many of joy as of sadness. Those
of sadness were for my loss; those of joy were for her
much-deserved release.
I told her that I would be starting the flower and vegetable
seeds soon, then moving the transplants to the garden, and
of course I would need her help in the garden that summer.
I had no doubt that her spirit would join me.
I looked at the wall by her bed and saw the large poster of
butterflies Nancy and I had brought her five years earlier.
The poster showed a variety of life-sized butterflies flying
around a pink azalea bush, so happy and free....
time over those past eleven years. It was as it should have
been—we had started this journey together long ago, and
now the two of us were to complete it.
The finest person I had ever known, or known of, was
about to pass away. As she had humbly set a model of how
a good life is lived, she now calmly demonstrated how the
inevitable end is graciously accepted. This joyful lady had
so happily awaited the birth of her five children and loved
them all so much from day one on through the end of her
life. She had taught us all that life is to be enjoyed and to
appreciate all the simple little things along the way; to be
grateful for what we have; to have an optimistic and
positive attitude; to help our fellow beings; to smile and
laugh and love; and so much more.
Nurses came in at intervals to offer any assistance they
could. They also brought in a tray with coffee and water.
Out of consideration, they had moved out my mother’s
roommate; I had that bed available if I needed to rest.
Bernice was very popular with the nurses and CNAs due to
her near-perpetual smile or laugh, the sparkle in her eye,
and her habit of reaching out to help others—literally
reaching out from her wheelchair when someone passed
her who was in despair. No matter how advanced the AD
became, it never diminished her compassion for suffering
people.
The aides always enjoyed feeding her in the dining room
because she had a good appetite and made their job easy.
They would raise a spoon of food to her lips, and she
would open her mouth to readily take it in, just like a baby.
Some difficult residents would keep their mouth closed, or
spit out the food once it was in their mouths. So, every aide
or assisting nurse wanted the job of feeding Bernice.
Hospice assistance at this point was in the medications
provided, and instruction given to Bernice’s nurses on
administering them. I know that Mother and I both
appreciated that help very much.
About midnight, I told Mother again that I loved her, and I
thanked her so much for being my mother. It was
becoming harder and harder to hold the tears in, but
thankfully there were as many of joy as of sadness. Those
of sadness were for my loss; those of joy were for her
much-deserved release.
I told her that I would be starting the flower and vegetable
seeds soon, then moving the transplants to the garden, and
of course I would need her help in the garden that summer.
I had no doubt that her spirit would join me.
I looked at the wall by her bed and saw the large poster of
butterflies Nancy and I had brought her five years earlier.
The poster showed a variety of life-sized butterflies flying
around a pink azalea bush, so happy and free....
 |
Copyright ©2006 Heydon Buchanan. All Rights Reserved.
Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out
the lamp because dawn has come.
—Rabindranath Tagore
Be of good cheer about death and know this as a
truth—that no evil can happen to a good person,
either in life or after death.
—Socrates
the lamp because dawn has come.
—Rabindranath Tagore
Be of good cheer about death and know this as a
truth—that no evil can happen to a good person,
either in life or after death.
—Socrates