- What makes life worth living?
- What would make life definitely not worth living?
- What might at first seem too much to put up with, but then might seem manageable after getting familiar with the situation and learning to deal with it?
- If you knew life was coming to an end, what would be comforting and make dying feel safe?
What, in that situation, would you want to avoid?
- How much control is important for you to have when facing a terminal illness?
We may see that dying is the better of two choices, and be ready to give the loved one permission to die. The dying person may be distressed at causing grief for those who love them, and, receiving permission to die can relieve their distress. There is a time for this to happen. Before that, it feels wrong to accept a loss, but after that it can be an act of great kindness to say, “You may go when you feel it is time. I will be OK.”
At the time a person is near death, sometimes touch is the best communication. Gentle stroking of a hand or a cheek, and quietly reassuring the person that you love them and that you will be all right is perhaps the most compassionate way to ease your loved one on his journey. In a situation where you are not present at the time of death, forgive yourself and know that you did the best you could to make the final hours or weeks of life peaceful and meaningful.
According to Hospice and an EMT Family Member, Mom is holding on hard. dievca’s one brother is there, Grandchildren are there, a lovely Caregiver, the Great-Grandchild have gone over, dievca and her cousins have spoken and sang to Mom, dievca hopes her other brother has spoken to Mom, but she’s not sure….what are we missing?
dievca’s Dad checked in with everyone and then let go~ We cannot figure out what Mom is holding on for~ she moves her lips when something pleases her and the mention of a bath causes those lips to move. Mom floats with her Osteoperosis. Maybe the simple pleasure of a bath~
Just wish we could figure out what would help.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower
“The only sea I saw
Was the seesaw sea
With you riding on it.
Lie down, lie easy.
Let me shipwreck in your thighs.”