After deeming surgery on the lining of his aorta too risky, my close friend’s dad was sent home to be with his family and to receive hospice care.
He’s likely finished the steak dinner he requested, perhaps sleeping, or maybe savoring the time he has left with his wife and daughter.
I’m fascinated by life’s departure process, especially when it doesn’t happen instantly. Is it like any other day but slightly different? Like with an extra hefty glob of meaning attached to it?
My friend drove her dad home, texting me how surreal it felt to go get her car. While driving, she had strong visions of when he’d taught her to drive.
I’m feeling the impact: a quiet mind, reflective thoughts, and a strong feeling of connection to the people I love. That’s likely why I’m sandwiched in bed right between my husband and daughter. Sure, we’re a little scrunched, and instead of typing this on my laptop, I’m swiping on my phone, but tonight I want to feel them close to me.
Thinking of a loss that significant, of someone who is a staple in my life, my belly turns to jelly. It’s like a wheel falling off the car, never to return.
I’m also a bit infatuated with the tail end of our existence: the love, care, and peace that come with it. I loved watching my aunt tuck her mom, my grandma, into bed and give her twenty kisses in five seconds while in the last weeks of her life. My grandma just giggled like a five-year-old. How precious to see the one who’d been cared for, care, and knowing the honor that comes with the job.
I have strong feelings. My chest radiates as I delve into these highlights, into the tearjerker parts. Like last week when client got his parents together and showed me a picture of it: his late-stage dementia mother holding hands with his aged and wheelchair-bound father. Their different needs mean different facilities, but when he got them together, they knew and they clung to one another.
I better go, and take a few minutes before sleep and reflect a bit more. I’m enjoying the quiet.
Thank you for being here with me. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 
We tend to be scared of death and I get it, but the few times I’ve peered over that fence at the end of life, especially when it takes it’s time, like you described, I’ve always learned so much. The funny thing too is that it’s usually told me a lot about myself and how to actually live a happy life. Kind of crazy! Sending positive thoughts and prayers for your friend and her family.
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