Have You Ever Watched or Been With Someone Taking Their Final Breath?

Navigating the emotional highs and lows of the end of life journey home

End-of-life transition presents difficult times of existential reflection for both the one about to embark on the journey home and for those faced with continuing life without their loved one, with emotions running high, and often it is accompanied by a lot of grief and/or denials.

I am fortunate to be part of a close-knit family. We pull together in times of crisis. We had been through a couple of health scares with my dad, but this time we all felt the difference. We tried to stay optimistic, but it became clear very quickly there was no escaping that this was the beginning of the end of this life’s journey of his soul. He had celebrated ninety years around the sun in August 2020 and we all felt grateful for so many years, memories, stories, and shared laughter. Secretly, I prayed for a very quick ending for him, not because I wished him gone, but because I did not want to see him suffer, and hoped for him to pass peacefully.

I had come to terms with the fact that my dad’s death was fast approaching and I had received sage advice from several friends who had recently lost parents. They shared to take as many photos and videos in the remaining days as possible so that I would have the sound of his voice and pictorial memories I could hold in my hands. I was very glad that I did that and I also devoted all of my time to being there with him and helping my mom. We started going through photo albums and pulling our favorite family photos to use in a photo collage at his funeral. This was not a morbid thought but a way to honor and celebrate the best parts of his life and cherished memories.

“When someone we love dies, we get so busy mourning what died that we ignore what didn’t.” Ram Dass

The Process of Grief Starts Before the Passing

Grief comes in many forms and we each process it differently. I was more prepared to face his death and the circumstances and emotions surrounding it than my mom and sister. They fell into denial. At first, my mom was even angry at me for giving Dad his low dose of morphine that the hospice nurse had said to give if he seemed uncomfortable. When my dad said his neck hurt I offered it to him and he said yes. I couldn’t understand why my mom was upset with me until I realized she was in denial and my sister hopped right on that bus with her. I was stunned. His symptoms became worse and my sister panicked and insisted we call an ambulance to take him to the hospital for a CT scan because she thought he had a stroke and was not yet then prepared to say goodbye, for now.

I finally shut their voices out of my mind — mother know’s best and the superior and belittling older sister — and researched the symptoms of end-stage multiple myeloma based on my gut instincts. Sure enough, his symptoms all pointed to that:

• Being sick to your stomach
• Bone pain in your back or ribs (his was back and neck)
• Bruising and bleeding easily
• Feeling very tired
• Fevers
• Frequent infections
• Losing weight
• Loss of appetite
• Weakness in the arms and legs
• Confusion
• Urinating often

This made sense to me because my dad started saying nonsensical things, falling a lot and toward the end many times did not even know who we were. I understood why my sister held onto the thought that he had had a stroke. Yet, I instinctively knew it was his cancer advancing at a rapid pace.

They did not trust my spiritually awakened instincts.

Because of Covid, we were not even allowed to visit him at the hospital. It was a terrible situation. My mom was beside herself because she had promised him she would let him die in his own home and now he was hospitalized and alone.

I had compassion, although frustrated with the process myself, and even felt sad for my mom and sister because I knew they were deeply struggling with the thought of letting him go. I simply said, without shaming or blaming, these are the end-stage symptoms of myeloma, could you please ask the hospital attending doctor if this could be the cause of what is happening to him. Sure enough, the doctor agreed that was exactly what was happening.

Why the doctor did not have the guts to volunteer this information, is beyond me. Regardless, she agreed it was best for him to return home under hospice care for his final days. We got him home, comfortable, and we all felt much more at peace.

Breathing is the first thing you do when you come into this world and the last thing you do as you leave this world. Some people are very afraid of death and dying. I am not and I have been with my grandparents and now my dad in our final moments together of this reality and it gave me closure to be with them as they left their bodies.

“Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.” Lao Tzu

Thank You, Dad

New Year’s Eve 2021, was my daughter’s 21st birthday and I felt extremely conflicted in leaving my dad’s side, as he had been home on hospice care for over a week and knocking on death’s door. He was in the final days of his battle with Multiple Myeloma — cancer of the blood and bone. My sister and I had been taking turns staying with my mom for several weeks helping medicate and care for him. On New Year’s Eve morning, his breathing started to change, and I instinctively knew he did not have long.

My daughter, Morgan, has had a difficult year herself. Many insidiously invisible diseases and disorders including EDS, POTS, Dysautonomia, and Gastroparesis were diagnosed this past year and so celebrating that courageous and strong young lady’s 21st birthday was very important to me, as well as to my family. My sister and mom strongly encouraged me to take her out and celebrate her and enjoy myself as well. They promised they would call if anything changed and pushed me out the door to take her to a special dinner at a family favorite restaurant downtown where we had a reservation.

We enjoyed a great and much-needed meal, laughter, and she ordered her first official alcoholic drink! We toasted the great man, my dad, her gramps, and to the new year ahead — health, happiness, family, and to the many great memories we treasure.

The End

The next morning at 6:00 AM the phone rang. I had a very short conversation with my sister. His breathing was even more labored than she had previously dismissed. She told me, in the older sister voice that I often recoil from, “come, NOW!” I literally jumped out of bed, threw on my slippers, grabbed a duffle bag, and threw my toothbrush and some clothes to change into the duffle, and off I went as quickly as I could.

He waited. I swear he knew. His final gift was not to die on Morgan’s birthday! My sister, brother, and I were all with my mom gathered around my dad. We were there for over an hour telling stories, laughing, and enjoying each other. I was holding his hand which was significantly colder than ever before. He would almost pause between breaths and then suddenly he took one final deep gasp and that was it. He passed incredibly peacefully.

My dad had always been afraid of death, which surprised me because he was such a religious man. But, in those last breaths, he did not seem fearful. We had reassured him that it was okay to let go, that we would take good care of mom, and that although we would miss him, we knew it was better for him. We are all going to die — it cannot be escaped. But I do not believe life ends there. I believe our souls carry on. I believe some souls remain here on earth as Earth Angels and carry out miracles. I believe some return in other bodily forms. It all depends on how they lived their lives.

“Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.” Haruki Murakami

I personally do not fear death. I fear not living life fully. The hardest part is coming to grips with parting with someone that was such an important part of my life.

“Exit-date illusion souls do not dissipate still leaving all-too-real for somnambulists yet waking won’t salve grieving hearts” — Marcus

The reality is that I keep them alive by honoring their spirit through my actions in daily life. I can keep the parts that I cherish the most alive by continuing their legacy. My dad would want us to continue being a tight-knit family, to continue to laugh together, continue to be involved in our local community, and to be good humble people. That is who my dad was, and his spirit will live on through us.

The Arrangements

Holding a funeral during Covid-19 presented its own set of challenges and frustrations. Unfortunately, it meant limiting the number of family and friends who could attend both the church and funeral home gatherings. My dad was a retired Dentist and well-known community philanthropist — but for Covid, there would have been thousands in attendance to honor his life.

To reiterate the mind-numbing quickness of how abruptly I left upon receiving the call from my sister to get my ass to the house the morning he would pass, after spending the night with my mom, when we went to the funeral home the next day to plan the funeral, I could not for the life of me find my shoes. There I stood, me thinking I had held up so well, having spent time to do my hair and makeup, before off to the funeral home we went. I had no choice but to wear my slippers in a not-so-proud moment, and sure enough, the funeral home director called me out for it!

Asshole? Or needed injection of lightness at a dark time?

So… I know my dad, to whom image was very important, was shaking his head, looking down from the pearly gates, with his half-grin thinking how could she possibly have forgotten her shoes? My Sister leaned forward looked down and let out a huge laugh, my brother said, “What in the sam hell are you wearing,” and my daughter said, “oh no, I should have turned around when you called.” But we were doing the best we could and it brought a much-needed release of laughter that we all needed.

The good news was the funeral was an intimate gathering, due to Covid, and was a chance to visit with a small group of family that we do not get to see often. A nice reunion.

“So when tomorrow starts without me don’t think we’re far apart, For every time you think of me I’m right here in your heart.” David M. Romano

We are NEVER ready to say goodbye to someone we love so dearly. My dad was the one who made everyone feel good. He lifted everyone up. He told stories and jokes. His spirit will live forever. Thank you for letting me share this. He was truly a great man. Although we buried his body his soul watches over us and lives on forever…