Loving Ways To Deal With Death and Dying

By Helene Rothschild


Death is a natural occurrence, a passageway. When we can accept human death as another cycle of life, we can enjoy our daily lives more because we won't be in fear. Then we can also gracefully release others who are dying.

I often hear people say that they lost their mother, father, or another person in their lives. I can feel their pain when they express the transition in that way. I have compassion for their feelings. To assist them to feel better, I suggest that they just state what happened. For example, "My mother passed away last month." I also encourage them to close their eyes and speak to them. They are often pleased and comforted when they receive an intuitive response.

People who have had near-death experiences report seeing a tunnel and then a white light. There is always an angel or other being from the light waiting to take them back to the light. They feel nothing but unconditional love and their spirit (not their human bodies which is the only thing that dies) soars back home to the light. After a time of healing, they may become spirit guides or angels for those who are living.

Even though it may not look like that, all individuals have free will to choose when to leave the planet. No matter how they decide to pass on, it is helpful to accept their choice. The following suggestions can assist you to deal with death and dying in a loving way. Put a check next to what you want to say or do.

A. To help those who are dying, I can tell them in a loving way that:

1. They are complete here and it is time to go home.

2. They are worthy to return to the light.

3. It is helpful to forgive others and themselves for all that they felt was wrong, so that they can finish their unfinished business and go in peace.

4. There is nothing to be afraid of because they will be accompanied by an angelic being.

5. They can relax and just let themselves fall into a deep sleep and transcend back into the light.

6. They will be able to communicate telepathically with those they love.

7. If they choose, they can be reborn and live another life cycle on earth.

B. To help me deal with a loved ones death, I am:

1. Forgiving them and myself for anything that I felt was wrong.

2. Knowing that they will be totally taken care of.

3. Accepting that I am whole and complete by myself.

4. Understanding that I am not responsible for their passing.

C. To help me cope after a loved one transitions, I am:

1. Allowing myself to feel all my emotions and expressing them in healthy ways.

2. Realizing that I am likely to have feelings of denial, anger, fear, and sadness.

3. Giving myself time to grieve which is a necessary and important part of my healing process.

4a. Asking myself, "What do I think that I still need from ___ (deceased name) that I can't give to myself?" (Examples: security, love, appreciation)

4b.Giving what I need to myself and/or allowing others to be there for me.

5. Thinking of my loved one as being happy and doing well.

6. Speaking to my loved one out loud or in my mind anytime I have something to say.

7. Reading a book about near-death experiences.

8. Attending a death and dying support group.

9. Reaching out to people I feel close to for support.

10. Seeking a professional counselor to help me cope with my loss.

Congratulate yourself for dealing with death and dying in a loving, healthy way.

Copyright 2007 by Helene Rothschild, MS, MA, MFT, a Marriage, Family Therapist, intuitive counselor, speaker, and author. Her newest book is, "ALL YOU NEED IS HART! A Unique Guide to Holistic and Rapid Transformation.” She offers phone sessions, books, e-books, MP3 audios, posters, cards, teleclasses, independent studies, and a free newsletter. http://www.lovetopeace.com/, 1-888-639-6390.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~For more information, you might enjoy reading my book, More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife. Purchase paperback on Amazon.com. It's also on Amazon as an e-book for those who have Kindle or Sony Readers. The audio book is now available!
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Explaining Death to Children

How fitting that I signed up for a college sociology course on death, dying, and bereavement this fall. There is a section in our textbook about how to help children deal with death. This information will help me explain death to my 8-year-old grandson should he ask for my assistance. He is going to visit Nanny (his great-great-grandmother) this weekend with his parents. I want him to be prepared not only for his visit with Nanny but also for her impending death. He has spent a lot of time with Nanny since she lives with my parents and he enjoys going there any chance he gets. Sidney spends several weeks each summer with the three of them. Not many children have a close relationship with their five-generation matriarch.

I found a Web site that gives good information for helping kids deal with the death of a loved one. http://kidshealth.org/parent/emotions/feelings/death.html

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For more information, you might enjoy reading the complete book More Than Meets the Eye True Stories about Death, Dying, and Afterlife. Purchase on Amazon.com

Making Peace with a Deceased Loved One

It is normal to feel a push/pull when someone you love is passing—especially if they have been a strong and independent person who is suddenly weakened by illness. I wanted to avoid going to see my grandfather while he was in the latter stages of his illness. My visits sparked him so much, and he loved having me there; so I kept going as much as I could. We lived next door to my grandparents, so it was impossible not to visit them. My kids were five and eight at the time, and they were not troubled by the changes they saw in Pap, so I'd send them to visit him. They would crawl up in the bed with him and watch cartoons together. It felt like a cop-out way of dealing with the situation, but I could only take so much of watching him die.

I’m sure a lot of people feel as though they didn’t do enough physically and emotionally to care for their dying loved one, but guilt is not going to change anything. It will only steal your peace of mind. Since there really isn’t a separation in spirit, it’s never too late to make peace with your loved one or the situation that caused your guilt. If you feel like you have any unfinished business with someone who has passed, you could ask them to come to you in your dreams, or you can simply talk to them as if they were physically sitting across the room from you. I assure you they can hear you as you make amends or resolve your guilt. By doing so, you may release not only yourself, but your loved one to a greater degree of peace and rest.

Dealing with Guilt and Grief

No matter how much we give or do for a critically-ill loved one, it is common to feel that we have not done enough for them. Guilt can be debilitating and keep us stuck in the past. It is important for the caregiver and family members to heal their grief and let go of guilt. A dear friend of mine, Jake Matson, tells his story:

My grandmother had a stroke and was placed in a nursing home. I hated for her to be in a home and I was mad at my mom and Aunt Sue for putting her there. It was a long time before I would go to see her because I kept hoping she would get better. I guess I knew she was bad off and I didn’t want to see her that way. Finally I met my parents at the nursing home and went inside to see her. At that time my grandmother was very coherent, but she looked like she had aged 15 years since the last time I had seen her. She couldn't do anything for herself and the home provided the constant care that she required.

On the 3-hour ride home I kept trying to think of ways to talk Mom into letting me take Maw-Maw into my home (even though deep down I knew it was a bigger job than I could take on). Maw-Maw did so much for me and I felt like she deserved better. I kept thinking how horrible it must be to live in a bed in a strange place with only a TV for company. I vowed to visit her once a week.

The first time I went alone, I sat in the parking lot trying to talk myself into going inside. I hated seeing Maw-Maw in that condition. I walked in and she was so happy to see me. She complained about the food the home served, so I went to McDonald’s and got her a kid’s meal with a malt. She kept raving about how good the chicken nuggets and malt tasted. Since she only had the use of one hand, she couldn't eat like a normal person. It was very sad to watch her struggle to get the food to her face, only to have it fall out of her mouth. When it was time for me to go, she begged me to stay, “Please don't go, please stay longer!” she pleaded. I promised I would return the next week. On the way home I felt sad and vowed to go back the next week. I was mad at myself. I should have given her more of my time. Why did I wait until she was dying to spend time with her?

Over the next few months it got easier for me to see her. The visits were more upbeat. I went alone most of the time because I didn't want my kids to remember their great-grandmother this way. Maw-Maw was rebellious. She hated the food, she hated living there, and she fought with the nurses and aids. She asked me many times to get her out of there. She was more like a child wanting attention, and that didn't make it easy on me; I hated for her to be there too.

Mom and Aunt Sue hired a personal aid/babysitter. Why they hired a black lady to sit with an old New Orleans gal, I’ll never know. It reminded me of the movie “Driving Miss Daisy”. Every week Maw-Maw told me she was going to fire her. She treated her so badly, but Shea wouldn’t stand for Maw-Maw’s foolishness. She’d threaten to quit at least once a week. Shea must have really needed the money to stay with her. Truth is, Maw-Maw lived many more years because Shea saved her life more than once. Shea would stay seven or eight hours a day and Maw-Maw liked having her there, even though she would never tell her so. The aids at the home got used to Shea being there and they didn't do much for her after that. When I came to visit I would let Shea take a break. She deserved it! She was a saint!

Shea would have a wheelchair ready and I would push Maw-Maw up the hall and back, and sometimes I would take her outside. Maw-Maw lived for the day when someone came to visit her. Every week she would ask, “What did you bring me?” I brought flowers for her room every week, and we tried to decorate her room for every holiday. I always brought her something to eat and snacks for her to have later. I put up a bird feeder outside her window and she quickly came to expect that I would fill it during each visit. We laughed and told jokes. Once, I pushed her in a wheel chair down to a water fountain. I brought a fishing pole. We sat there and fished together and told fishing stories. I tried to make her laugh. If she was in pain I'd grab a nurse and ask if she could have a pain pill. If they told me she just had one, I would ask them to give her something else and let her think it was a pain pill. Maw-Maw would feel so much better then, not knowing she’d only had sugar water.

I would call my mom on my way to the nursing home and ask how Maw-Maw was doing. Mom would say, “Oh, she has good days and bad days, but the good days are less and less, and she is getting worse!” Mom even told me that I shouldn’t visit her anymore. Still, I was full of hope and optimism—thinking she was going to get well and get out of there. After all, she had conquered every illness known to man. I thought she was Superwoman. She defeated cancer more than once in her last 15 years. She lost her hair twice from chemo and grew it back. She had pneumonia several times. She broke her hip and still went dancing around. She had cornea transplants twice in 20 years. Even after her stroke I'd bet she could still drive a car with one foot and one hand if someone would have strapped her in! In reality, though, she was dying, and most of the good days she had was when I was with her. Even though her bodily functions were deteriorating, her mind was as strong as ever.

As time passed, Maw-Maw learned to tolerate living in the home, but we always talked about her getting well and getting out of there. I usually arrived around lunch time and always brought her food. She was diabetic, and I always got fussed at by Mom and Aunt Sue for bringing her food she wasn't supposed to eat. In reality she didn't eat enough to send her sugar level soaring. She loved the vanilla malts but never finished a whole one. I would stuff her closet full of snacks and Coke and things she liked. No one else visited enough to know that all she took was a bite or two. I encouraged my sisters to visit and bring her something; ANYTHING to brighten her day. One day I was running behind schedule and was wondering what to bring. I figured I would be there just after dinner, so I stopped at a liquor store to get the fixings for a martini. When I arrived she said in an ugly tone of voice, “Where were you today?” She quickly changed her tone, “What did you bring me? What's in the bag?”—trying to grab the bag from me with her one good arm. I told her I was going to make Martini's. She said, “Oh, Jake. I don't know if I should drink alcohol with all the medication I'm on.” I replied, “Just a little sip won’t hurt.” I set the bag of goodies to the side, having second thoughts. We talked for a minute or two and then she said, “Boy, are you going to fix us a drink or not?” I took a small Styrofoam coffee cup and made a Martini, poured half into another cup, then added an olive to each. She was so excited! She took a sip, spilling most of it on her clothes. She took another sip, spilling even more. Determined to get to the olive, she spilled even more. She couldn't have had much more than an ounce when all of a sudden she came to life with a sudden burst of energy and giddiness. She started telling dirty jokes, laughing and cutting up. She said, “Oh, Lord. If I pass now, I am going to smell like a drunk, and the nurses are going to think I been drinking all night. Don't tell Shea or Sue Ellen or we might get in trouble.” I didn't have to say a thing, within an hour she had everyone in the nursing home laughing. Maw-Maw had her wheelchair comic sit-up debut!
Even though I was nervous about Mom’s and Aunt Sue's reaction, I laughed for most of the 3 hour ride home. I called Dad to give him a heads up on what I had done. He laughed and thought it was great. I never heard from Mom or Aunt Sue, but a week or so later Shea wanted to know why we had a party without her. Everyone had heard about it. Time and time again, even at the funeral, many of our family and friends told me how she and the nursing home staff talked about that one visit.

In her final months Maw-Maw lost her volume. She still had presence of mind but she spoke very softly. She was not her feisty self anymore; not much on conversation. Every answer she gave was either “yes” or “no” without further reply. She slept a lot and didn’t want to get out of bed. She seemed to have aged 10 years in only a few weeks. It was getting harder and harder for me to see her this way—an old lady confined to a bed. I skipped a week and didn’t go to visit her. Before she would have fussed at me, but by this time she barely noticed. I skipped another week, maybe more. I couldn't make myself go to see her in that condition and I knew she didn't have much time left. More than once I prayed for God to let her go. I could see no reason why He would want her to live like that. There was no point.

The last time my two sisters visited Maw-Maw, she didn't open her eyes even once, but they felt like she knew they were there. My little sister thought it was time to pray. She took out Maw-Maw's favorite prayer, took her hands, and began to pray. Maw-Maw responded with tears from her closed eyes. Did she know these where her last days? Was she sad to be leaving or happy to be going? They all continued to pray through their tears. My sisters prayed well that day. Maw-Maw left us later that night.
I am glad I wasn't there when she died; yet sometimes I wish I had been. For a while after that I would get mad at myself. Why didn't I spend more time with her before she got sick? Why did I let all of those years slip away?

That must have been difficult for Jake, but what special memories he has of his dear grandmother. He was such a blessing to her.

Loving families during crisis

I am amazed at the love families are able to show one another during a crisis. My mother, grandmother and aunts cared diligently for my grandfather and my uncle during long-term illnesses. While it was never easy, it seemed that everyone inherited a special grace or strength to get them through it. Yet it is normal, not only for the critically ill patient, but also for those caring for them, to wish that the suffering would hurry up and end.

Yet, as Tammy Roth discovered, there is a time to be born and a time to die:

About ten years ago, both my grandparents (aged 66 and 67 years) died of cancer only a few months apart. They were kept at home during their demise and we had hospice come in several times a week. Mom and I stayed around the clock, caring for them. Our family never talked about what was happening. We believed that both of them would get well. Papa’s last moments were horrible as he gasped for breath. Everything inside him left and he looked hollow. The experience didn’t change my view of death, but Grandma changed when Papa died. She had been a strong, independent woman who bossed him around, but once he died she began to glorify him. As she began to decline, no meds were given to try to restore her life. Instead we kept her comfortable until she passed on her own.

Grandma’s body began shutting down but she continued to cling to life from March, (when she became bedridden), until June, (when she passed). She had no quality of life. She lost from 130 to 70 pounds. In her delirious state she talked to her mom on the Other Side and mentioned seeing the Light. Family members told her it was okay to go, but she still hung on to life for some reason. Getting “the call” was a relief. I felt guilty for wanting her to pass earlier. Mom and I went to a counselor who told us that those feelings are normal. I wondered why Grandma held on for so long. Then it occurred to me that if a soul’s time of arrival on the Earth is planned according to the stars and planetary alignment, then so must be a soul’s departure.

After Papa and Grandma passed, my mother became depressed. About eight years afterward, Mom opened to new spiritual concepts, started taking medication and began to pull out of it.

Whenever we have family gatherings, the photo of Papa and Grandma falls off the mantle. It’s like they want us to know they are still here with us. I have dreams of Grandma; mostly about her being sick. It was such a horrible ordeal. Sometimes she gives me guidance and I sense her presence when I’m doing healing work. She was a hairdresser. I am now in a spiritual healing practice in a building that is shared by tenants who are hairdressers. Grandma likes hanging out here. In fact, today, before this interview, I drew an angel card that said, “Grace”. That was Grandma’s name. She wanted me to know she was aware that I was going to talk about her.