I’m reading this during my lunch break, while in my office (in Elgin) and gently sobbing.
I had to put a post-it note on my door “WEBEX CONFERENCE - DO NOT DISTURB”... Once composed, I opened the door and a colleague asked me if I was ok... “Yes, yes I am”!
Oh, gosh, this piece gripped my stomach and throat with the truth of it. I've yet to really and truly embrace the death of a loved one as beautiful, though I hope that wisdom blooms in me.
Thank you, Renee. I hope that, if and when that day comes, you'll remember the beauty as well as the pain of a loved one's passing. The older I get (I'm 54), the more I wish someone would have taught me about how to prepare for life events like this in school. I have a hunch we'd be a better society if we spoke more openly about things like this, don't you?
Absolutely society would be better if we spoke about death and the fear and the unknown. And also, holding each other's hands as we move through life together, especially through the intense scary times. You are a fabulous writer, Christine, and I always come away from your articles with new ideas, or a deepening of thought/emotion.
I understand this experience well. I first heard the death rattle sitting at my father’s bedside in 1990, keeping vigil for 2 weeks. Two nights before he transitioned, we told him it was okay. I was devastated by the loss and yet, yes, eventually okay and perhaps even better for it. But in our grief, its hard to believe anything will ever be okay again. It certainly is never the same.
Thank you for writing this. I got the call to get to my paternal grandmother in the hospital when I was watching Sarah Silverman talking about her grandmother. I rushed the 40 miles and got there 10 minutes after she lost consciousness. I rubbed her feet, kissed her, talked to her, and took those socks I had given her. and put them on my feet for the next few days. July 12th, 2006. My mom was in an assisted aid place with the address 5001. When I got there on March 12th, they told me I wouldn't be able to come again unless it was an emergency. This was 2022. I massaged her for an hour but she never opened her eyes. She knew I was there. She talked about it after I left the room. She was unresponsive on May 1. They put her in an ambulance which is where she had a heart attack and died. We held my dad during his death rattle just 616 days prior. Thank you for writing this. Honored and humbled to read it. Such an important piece. I drive by 5001 at least once a week. Just this last week I realized 5001 is 5/1. I wish I could have been with my mom the way you were with your grandma.
I'm so sorry for your unimaginable losses. I know how fortunate I was to be with my grandmother at the time she passed, and I've also known the sorrow of NOT being there when a loved one dies. Thank you for reading and for your lovely words. Wishing you peace.
I’m reading this during my lunch break, while in my office (in Elgin) and gently sobbing.
I had to put a post-it note on my door “WEBEX CONFERENCE - DO NOT DISTURB”... Once composed, I opened the door and a colleague asked me if I was ok... “Yes, yes I am”!
Thank you, Chrissy.
Oh Raf. You're welcome. And you want to know what? I didn't cry while writing that post, but I finally did when reading your comment. So thank YOU. xo
Oh, gosh, this piece gripped my stomach and throat with the truth of it. I've yet to really and truly embrace the death of a loved one as beautiful, though I hope that wisdom blooms in me.
Thank you, Renee. I hope that, if and when that day comes, you'll remember the beauty as well as the pain of a loved one's passing. The older I get (I'm 54), the more I wish someone would have taught me about how to prepare for life events like this in school. I have a hunch we'd be a better society if we spoke more openly about things like this, don't you?
Absolutely society would be better if we spoke about death and the fear and the unknown. And also, holding each other's hands as we move through life together, especially through the intense scary times. You are a fabulous writer, Christine, and I always come away from your articles with new ideas, or a deepening of thought/emotion.
I understand this experience well. I first heard the death rattle sitting at my father’s bedside in 1990, keeping vigil for 2 weeks. Two nights before he transitioned, we told him it was okay. I was devastated by the loss and yet, yes, eventually okay and perhaps even better for it. But in our grief, its hard to believe anything will ever be okay again. It certainly is never the same.
I'm so sorry to read this, Jan. You said it perfectly: "It certainly is never the same." p.s. hope you're feeling better
Thank you for writing this. I got the call to get to my paternal grandmother in the hospital when I was watching Sarah Silverman talking about her grandmother. I rushed the 40 miles and got there 10 minutes after she lost consciousness. I rubbed her feet, kissed her, talked to her, and took those socks I had given her. and put them on my feet for the next few days. July 12th, 2006. My mom was in an assisted aid place with the address 5001. When I got there on March 12th, they told me I wouldn't be able to come again unless it was an emergency. This was 2022. I massaged her for an hour but she never opened her eyes. She knew I was there. She talked about it after I left the room. She was unresponsive on May 1. They put her in an ambulance which is where she had a heart attack and died. We held my dad during his death rattle just 616 days prior. Thank you for writing this. Honored and humbled to read it. Such an important piece. I drive by 5001 at least once a week. Just this last week I realized 5001 is 5/1. I wish I could have been with my mom the way you were with your grandma.
I'm so sorry for your unimaginable losses. I know how fortunate I was to be with my grandmother at the time she passed, and I've also known the sorrow of NOT being there when a loved one dies. Thank you for reading and for your lovely words. Wishing you peace.