Final Goodbye

Lee, my niece and writer of this touching post, Saying Goodbye, expresses the pain of burying your mother. She talks about the mundane and the deep feelings of not wanting to  let her go.

http://littleleeway.wordpress.com/2014/11/10/saying-goodbye/

Her mother was my sister, June. For days I've thought of her and what I owe her for the life I lead today. I've thought of what I can say at the burial, if I can hold myself together enough to talk. There is  no way to sum up the long life of such a special person. I will tell about my admiration for her from the time I was a small child. 

Imagine that you have someone living  in your house who is as pretty as the movie stars on the  covers of the magazines. And imagine that she loves you dearly and will do anything for you. So different looking from my sweet mother who had lost her figure long before I was born, but just as loving as my mother and as kind and caring for her young siblings. 

She was meant to have a happy life because she sacrificed so much for others, but as a young woman with two teenage children, she faced the death of her husband. Her world fell apart and the weight of raising the kids alone seemed overwhelming. She had not  held a job for fifteen years. 

She was a resilient woman who persevered under grueling circumstances. The family had to move where she could find work that  would support her family. The children didn't fare well in the new school and June had to rethink her situation again. 

All I wanted to  do was save her from the overpowering grief and sorrow that had stolen my sister's smile, her love of life. But I could not fix her problems. Now I know that grieving is a personal and private matter that no one can ease  for another. 

She raised her  girls and they are both doing well. She finally found another man that she could love and who adored her. But their happiness was short lived. Less than ten years of marriage before her health deteriorated. She knew when it was time to go, and she passed away with her family around her.

Now we must say a final goodbye. I can hardly bear it.

My sister, June

On Death and Dying Alone

When we lose our loved ones, especially after we begin losing our siblings, our mortality rears up and roars at us. How long do we have left? How will we depart and how long will it take?

Reading the book given by Hospice on what to expect from your loved one as they begin to transition from this world to the next, is almost ghoulish, but I suppose it is something we need to know as we sit with our dying person. They tell us the rasping sounds emanating from the person we love is “normal.” 

Nurses at Hospice know when to call in the family as the last stages of life leave the patient They know when we need to be there to say our last good-byes. They can’t help us with this chore, and they can’t tell us how to do it to make the passing easier for our dear one. But they know all the symptoms of life leaving the body.

My question is how do the writers of this book know? 

As I spoke in my sister’s ear and told her I love her and urged her to sleep well, her breathing became faster and her eyes opened, unfocused, for a moment. I was sorry I spoke to her and wakened her from her journey. Perhaps it is best to leave the traveling to the dying because no matter how many people gather around, we still die alone. 

Even the little book says we withdraw from this world, gradually losing interest in reading, TV, news of the world around us, children and grandchildren, and we become totally self-absorbed. I imagine I would not be interested in the noisy television that seems to be a necessity in every hospital room. My sister said to turn it off.

When read to, she already seemed to be away, just smiling at the reader. My sister June had the nicest smile and the kindest heart. She would not be rude and say, “Stop reading. I don’t want to hear it.” Her smile became a sad expression in those last days as the hopelessness became more apparent. 

After watching death claim my loved ones, I understand that the process of dying is strenuous, is all consuming, and requires total self-absorption. 

Those of us left behind and grieving are just in the way. 

I think my sister would have liked to say to me, “Leave me alone. Go home now. I’m busy dying.”

And she completed that task only fifteen minutes later. 

Three sisters, Glenda, Gay and June in chair