This year, I heard death’s knock on my door more than I ever had before. I experienced the fragility of life both personally and professionally. It became real to me in a way it wasn’t in the past.
My first patient through Ascend was sad in a way I was not used to. I have seen depression first hand, experienced the pangs, the shivers, the lack of control, but never the pure loneliness that he felt. When I was with him, he would cry. Tears pouring down his wrinkled cheeks because he did not know why he was where he was, why he felt so broken, so alone. All I could do was hold his hand and tell him that it was okay, that his sadness was okay, that he was not alone. When he died in December of 2017, I felt pure relief. He was finally free; it was the most peaceful outcome. Though I was sad for him, it was not for his death. I was only sad for the suffering he felt at the end. I was also relieved to hear that his family was with him when he died, because in my last visits with him, he would ask me where they were, why they were not with him then.
I did not know at that time that death would touch me much more closely in the months to come. On December 24th, 2017, my great aunt Crucita fell and broke her collar bone. She was 87. I remember arriving at her house on Christmas evening, the house that has been in my mother’s family since they escaped the crop fields of Texas and Salinas Valley. My grandmother, my abuela, greeted us at the door, informing us that Crucita was in the hospital. A shiver went down my spine. I knew she would not be coming back home. She passed away in early March of 2018. Her funeral was March 16th. Though she was old, and I knew she would not be with us forever, I felt as if some constant had been stolen from me, the backbone of my mother’s family wiped from our lives. The true timeline of life became so tangible and clear, as clear as the tears on my mother’s cheeks when Crucita was lowered into her grave, as clear as the mariachi guitar that played at the ceremony.
I think it is easy to say that we accept death, but it is not as easy to truly understand it. We may understand the biological function, the process, the degradation; but we do not understand the pain, are not trapped in the hospital smell, in the humiliation of not being able to take care of yourself, of having your most basic independent human functions taken away. We cannot fathom that. Through my experience at Ascend Hospice, I have accepted that lack of understanding. I have accepted my role as comforter, as hand-holder, as a shoulder to cry on. I have read biblical passages that I do not agree with. I have given words of comfort that I do not heed in my own life. This is because death is not something that necessitates understanding, but rather acceptance. Through Ascend and my experience in hospice care, the reality of death has become more tangible, but so has the acceptance. It is okay to be sad. It is okay to cry. You are not alone.