A friend of mine died last Saturday. She went fast, one week start to finish with everything the hospital could do. Unbeknownst to her, the cancer had returned. I sat with her several times during that last week and was there when she died. She didn't complain once but was instead both accepting and gracious. Everyone who visited was touch by her spirit.
I've only experienced human death once before, my Uncle John. He died very peacefully. He also went fast. The nurse phoned in the middle of the night and said she didn't know what happened. He was fine when she went home after her last shift but that if I ever wanted to see him alive again I better come right away. I immediately set out for Portland. I sat with him all day, took a short break in the afternoon and when I returned it seemed as though things were on pause. A strange but kind old woman in the break room, who said she was only at the rest home making her rounds, told me he was waiting for me, that he need to know I'd be okay. I took her very seriously. A strange but kind old woman had visited my mother in her hospital room the morning she died.
His room was sunk in a deep dim light. The roommates were gone. He was alone behind the curtain. We sat. I made some amends, thanked him for looking after me all those years then told him he could go. That grandpa was waiting for him. I'd be okay. He whispered in my mind,
"say that prayer about 'now and at the hour of our death'". I did, my forehead touching his as he sat in bed, slumped slightly forward, to all appearances unaware. But he was. We breathed together in ... out ... in ... out ... . then when I breathed in he stayed out. That was also on a Saturday.
Kathy died a little harder. A death rattle, her body heaved and pitched a couple of times then pushed or was pressed back hard and to the side as the last of her evaporated away.
