25/02/2011

Disappearances

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.



7 comments:

Kimberlee said...

what a beautiful and heartfelt post. I watch many, many deaths in my career and each one seems to have one moment and it can be a different one for different people but there always seems to be a moment where your feelings are almost tangible.

asha said...

Thanks Kimberlee. I think you are an angel, you know. I thought so when I first met you. Some people just are angels and you are among them. I mean this as the greatest compliment. The people who die with you in attendance are very fortunate.

Kimberlee said...

Oh my gosh what expectations to live up to! I'll have to start working on swearing less at the very least:)

someone said...

I'm sorry your friend is gone now, and grateful you were able to breathe with her to the end. I know that people must be able to relax to die. I can imagine being at perfect rest with you in the room. It is an honor to be a part of that process.

asha said...

Hi judybluesky. You're one of the angels. :)

Kristiana said...

I am sorry about your friend. You never told me she had passed away, although I did know her time was short.

The story about Uncle John is touching -- I sure was preoccupied with myself at the time, being such an incredibly selfish teenager! I skipped out on a debate tournament that weekend and remember being like "oh someone died? at least I didn't get caught." I'm not sure I ever asked you how you were doing.

So, how are you doing?

asha said...

Kristiana, I appreciate your reflections and please don't worry about it. Teenagers are, well, teenagers. You should have seen me. :0 You've grown into a wonderful woman, wife, mother and are, as always, are my ever precious Little Mother Cool Breeze.

Oh. And I'm doing just fine. Thanks. :)