It is hard watching the Thanksgiving commercials on television when one of the people you love most in the world is dying. So many of the ads portray happy families around tables laden with delicious food. I know that the commercials are staged, that there are many people responsible for those photo shoots, that the family members at the table are paid actors who probably don’t know each other at all. Still. It would be nice to step into one of those commercials, or into someone else’s family for a few hours, some family where nobody is dying.
I’m also realizing that it is not good to watch the Food Network or HGTV now. Note to my friends who read this blog regularly: we have abandoned the Hallmark Channel and its relentless Christmas cheer. I’m not sure, though, that HGTV and the Food Network are much better. Food Network has Pioneer Woman fixing her marvelous Thanksgiving feasts. She is so happy, her family is so happy, her food is so lovely, and there are no dirty dishes anywhere. All that perfection makes me crabby, even if I know that it’s not real either. On HGTV, the clients of the Property Brothers seem spoiled, shallow and demanding. They are wealthy enough to afford beautiful houses, but the houses aren’t good enough for them. They routinely decide that they need $100,000 renovations.
I realize that my crabbiness is a little displaced. I know there is nothing intrinsically wrong with fixing a lovely Thanksgiving meal or having a house remodeled. But when you are holding the hand of someone you love who probably won’t live another week to see the holiday, it gives you perspective. It is really necessary to have five side dishes? Or a beautifully decorated dinner table? Or to stress about any of this if you are lucky enough to have food and a table and people you love to share your meal with?
The hospice nurse put my Mom on oxygen yesterday. It will help keep her comfortable as she moves through the dying process. Who knew that there was a dying process? Evidently, there are steps that people go through, those who pass away from diseases, anyway. You miss out on the dying process if a mass shooter gets you from his hotel room window when you are at a concert. Or another shooter gets you at church. Or if still another mows you down because you are unfortunate enough to be his neighbor. No dying process for these souls. Just sudden darkness and unutterable loss for the people who loved them.
But for many, the lucky ones (I guess), there are stages of dying. The good people at hospice gave us a booklet that tells all about this. For months after her initial diagnosis, my Mom moved slowly through the stages. Her nurse told her that she was the healthiest hospice patient she had. She was alert and happy and thankful that her family was with her. Last weekend, though, she started to slide. We went from symptoms on the “Two to Three Months Before Death” page to those on the “One to Two Weeks Before Death” section. Our nurse is saying that we have even progressed beyond that. The nurse went from twice weekly visits to three times a week visits to daily visits, just in a week. It might be just days for my Mom now. Maybe hours.
When I was pregnant with my children, I had What to Expect When You are Expecting on my bedside table. I loved that book. It made me feel like I was part of something bigger. The hospice booklet is like a What to Expect for the end of life. I have not loved it. I have kept my distance from it, have been a little afraid of it. I did not want anything to do with this process. I did not want my Mama to die.
These last days, though, the booklet has moved from under a pile of papers in the corner to the middle of the kitchen table. Suddenly, it is a comfort. It reminds me that there is a rhythm not only in our births, but apparently, also in our deaths. Dying is not a surprise, a mistake, or a failure; it is just a doorway to greater love and resurrection.
My Mama has been blessed with 87 years of full life, living on her own, driving herself to church up until the Sunday before her tumor was discovered. Today could be the day she leaves us. I’m glad it is not up to me to decide the exact time; I would never be able to let her go. But I believe in the giver of life who loves my Mom. He will bring her home at exactly the right time. Love surrounds her now, and love will meet her on the other side.
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