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As I am writing these words, I am listening to two simultaneous sounds. One is the ever-present hiss, hum, and flow of the oxygen concentrator set up in the living room of a dear, longtime friend. It is what keeps her breathing steady and comfortable. The other is the sweet orchestral serenade of Celtic Christmas music. It is December 2, 2018, in the midst of what for many is a celebratory time. I am in that limbo state since it is indeed for me, as I have a few parties and gatherings to attend, and I love the color and music and festivities that abound. It is also a full-blown reminder of the time when my husband died nearly 20 years ago (12/21/98) and my mom died eight years ago (11/26/2010).
My friend is blessedly dozing to both, right now. She has just entered into hospice for stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. Those who love her are taking shifts to stay and attend to her needs. I am here on weekends. Staring at me as I type these words is her year old or so cat, Mahboud. He has been a stalwart companion and comedian for her, zipping and zooming around and contemplatively gazing out the window. Who knows what is going on in his feline mind? I guess as long as he is given food, water, a clean litter box, playtime, and cuddles, he is in a good mood.
Like most of us facing the threshold, my friend is varyingly peaceful and admittedly anxious, uncertain what to expect. Even as home care nurse with decades of experience, she is now in patient mode. My intention, as I told her, from the get-go is to be of service and make decisions with her and not for her. Singing, reading to her, listening to music, goofing around, reminiscing, being irreverent and raucous, as we joke about goofy stuff we did, massage, Reiki, cooking (she tells me I make too much food for her dwindling appetite), bringing dress up costume pieces (a feather boa a few weeks ago and more recently, a jingle bell necklace and unicorn headband) part of our routine. Two friends from her spiritual community came to visit yesterday, offering healing, and serenading her. One is a member of the Threshold Choir.
Our Vision
A world where all at life’s thresholds may be honored with compassion shared through song.
Our Mission
Singing for those at the thresholds of life.
Angelic waves issued forth and surrounded us in sonic sweetness.
We talk about the tough stuff, the what do you want for the time that there is and what do you want afterward kind of questions. I told her I wouldn’t flinch at any of her answers. I’ve been with loved ones at the end and know the journey well. I have become what I call a midwife at the end of life. It is an honor and blessing to companion someone at this point. I have no clue, nor does any of us, how long we are to be on the planet in our current lifetime. Some seem to be closer to the edge based on medical diagnoses. It is then that we are called on to be brave and human and scared and uncertain. It is all sacred.
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Photo credit: Shutterstock
A holy place, for sure. I’ve sat in that “active waiting” space at someone’s end of life bed many times, as a nurse and more often now, as a friend. Wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything in the world. Soulful synchronicity until that moment the person’s life force “simply” lifts off and floats away. And still we minister to the body shell with utmost dignity and love. Awash with our own grief, we are ever present with others in their grief too. There is no higher form of human companioning. Bless you, Edie, for providing all this and more for… Read more »