Denial When Death is Approaching

"When will my kids believe I am dying?" My Aunt Kat asked me when I last visited her. She has terminal lung cancer.

I could not answer as to why her kids and grandkids don't visit her, but I do know that when my grandfather was dying, I had a hard time watching him suffer. He lived right next door to me, yet I avoided going to see him because I wanted to remember him as the vibrant character I had always known and I was very uncomfortable being around someone who was dying. It's scary!

I didn't realize at the time how much I could have helped to relieve the caregivers (my mom, my grandmother, and my aunts) just by being there. Nor, did I understand how much my visits would have meant to my grandfather. Now that two of those caregivers are dying, I have decided to dive in and just feel whatever I feel. And, I won't lie--it hurts. I am spending as much time as I possibly can with them. It's not easy to watch someone struggle to take the next breath. It's not fun to be awake all hours of the night tending to a sick loved one.

I sat and held Nanny's hand for hours last night as she cried out to Jesus, "Please take me home, Lord!" I cried, too, and I have to admit that I was asking Jesus to take her soul with Him.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray thee Lord my soul to keep.
If I die before I wake,
I pray thee Lord my soul to take.

Tears come and go as my sorrow builds up and has to be released like a pressure cooker. I'm letting my own pain ooze out in small increments--just enough to keep from exploding when she does finally pass.

There's no use denying death. It will not go away. Like my Aunt Kat says, "Let's not pretend that there isn't an elephant under our living room rug!"

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