The Art of Dying

“Dying, is an art, like everything else”- Sylvia Plath. The reactions I received from people when I chose to work at Hospicare was like a metaphorical ying yang symbol, some thought “how wonderful, you would be so great at that” while others wondered if such an empathetic and fragile soul such as mine could handle living fully while caring for the dying. It is this quote that explains how someone such as I and everyone I work with wish we knew how to explain, but Plath seems to have put our feelings so simply and beautifully. Although the passing of a loved one is difficult and the grieving process is beyond excruciating for those who watch bedside, I promise the art of dying is not nearly as difficult for whomever is experiencing it no matter what you believe comes next.

The beautiful thing about my job is that tragedy is not what overcomes the soul when a particular diagnosis has been retained, but rather a light no one else can experience until their time. For some it may take a while to accept the truth, but once in the process or the beginning of the end that light is something they chase. It is my faith in God that allows me to know that with the amount of pain management, love, comfort and stability the wonderful staff and I provide our patients allows our patients to finally experience true peace. “End No the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one we must all take. The grey-rain curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.”- J.R.R. Tolkien. I have often wondered if I am indeed the kiss of death, but have come to a selfish conclusion that many individuals want, but cannot express during those last moments that they need your permission. As someone whom sits at their side when the family cannot make it, I sing to them, I explain what the world looks like in the moment, probably the only time I practice true mindfulness; I remind them they are loved, explain each picture on the wall and art piece that someone has left, I pray for them and most importantly I give them permission. The struggle to take in air is something I believe is done to please their loved ones, but as they take that last breath and their chest rises, their lips part I choose to believe that is their way of saying thanks. And this is the last word.

There is something beyond the Universe and some of us may live a long time to get to know of it and some of us experience it sooner. Whatever the diagnosis that causes one to move on past the green grass and blue sky as we know it, is something each patient at some point come to terms with. Although they may not jump with joy to leave this world, I do believe they find an uncanny peace knowing the pain and suffering is over. I have been blessed to have the opportunity, yes that is what I call my job, an opportunity to give someone comfort and permission to fly amongst the greatest of whatever higher power they believe. And if they don’t have one and simply believe they are destined to rest under glistening snowflakes, daisies or tulips, I know its way better than gasping for air and holding onto something that is no longer meant to be. The best part of the company I work for is that no matter what the staff believes about life after death, they do their best and always succeed to make those last minutes’ matter just as a mother does when she brings a child into this world. No religion, belief or opinion is ever forced, they, we, I respect the wishes of each individual while always wishing them the best as they create a new art, beginning with parting the sky using their last God forsaken breath. I wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else than in the company of someone who does not want to be alone. The last-minute counts just as much as the first and I understand if you cannot do it. For some the art of dying is quite the opposite, but until we get there and experience it for ourselves why not just assume that the process is nothing less than magical.

Last, but certainly not least please let me assure you as many nurses, aides, caregivers or friends have told you, your loved one can hear you. It is at this time that one should shower their loved one with “I love you” and know that even though they cannot reply they also love you too. Those who are dying are aware, they too are mindful of what’s going on around them. I know this because I have been in the presence of many during their last moments here on earth. Sometimes they groan, or gurgle or may even try to open an eye for one last look. With each patient, I have seen follow angels to Golden Gates, I have held their hand and told them it was okay. I often wondered “who am I to give someone permission? Did I cause their death?”, but then realized I am the one sitting there doing my best to provide a safe place to receive their wings and if I had to say one narcissistic thing about myself, I’d say that in many ways they would like to thank me. One last quote, rather a question I would like to propose with the hope it will ease your mind if this entry has not already “How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind?” -Carson McCullers

©Kimberly Edwards

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