Rewind 16 years. Just around this time, Mom & I were putting the finishing touches on plans for the road trip of her dreams, down to EPCOT, with stops in Williamsburg (which she loved), Charleston (which she longed to visit) & extra special lodgings in Jacksonville. We had a grand time, from our first stop (for a late breakfast in Philadelphia) to our last nightcap at Wilderness Lodge.
As we headed back north, little did I suspect that the most wondrous part of the trip was about to unfold!
A hallmark of our coastal route south were the audiotapes we listened to as the miles rolled by - Stephen Covey, Louise Hay, Marianne Williamson, John Bradshaw, Wayne Dwyer, and lots of Willie Nelson. On the trip back, working our way up the Great Smoky Mountains to the Blue Ridge, the tapes remained tucked away in their carrying case as Mom & I got into lengthy discussions about her memorial celebration.
Yes, that's right - we talked, at great length, about the ways she hoped her family & friends would celebrate her life at her passing. It was amazing! Not a smidgen of sadness or gloom touched those talks. The miles sped by as we spun those highly energized, life-affirming conversations! We learned a lot about each other - and ourselves - as we considered the ins & outs & 'round abouts of how Mom hoped she'd pass & how she wanted us to experience it as joy, rather than sorrow.
Four years later, those conversations & the ideas that were bandied about made it easy, even uplifting, to deal with Mom's last hospitalizations, her brief hospice, and arranging her memorial celebrations. There was no wondering which hymns she wanted - Mom had asked each of her children to select a song for the service. We didn't have to ponder the special music - Mom not only had outlined what she wanted, in at least one case she'd asked friends if they'd sing solos. Three years before she passed, Mom asked a minister especially dear to her heart if he would do her service. We'd gone through her photos to pick out which ones she thought would give a good view of what was a most fortunate life.
One thing she wished she had done before she was left unable to write was to leave notes note for each of her children & children-of-her-heart. Other than that, she felt satisfied with how well prepared we'd all be when her time came.
When it came to preparing for her final days & passing, Mom fully lived with the end in mind. Like a good Boy Scout, she was prepared.
Contrast our happy memories of Mom's passing - at 91, she wore out, rather than rusted out, just as she'd hoped - with the experience of friends, whose mother died. Unlike Mom, she & her family had shied away from discussing end-of-life issues. As she lay, unconscious, her husband was faced with making enormous, heart-wrenching decisions about her medical care, without any idea of what she wanted because they'd never talked about quality of life issues. After she passed, her spouse & children had to arrange the many details of her funeral - What type of casket would she want? Which favorite outfit should she have for the viewing? Is the church available, the minister? Should there be a gathering afterwards? Where? How to let her friends know she's passed? - at the freshness of their loss. After all that, they had to head back to work, where coworkers who'd offered condolences now expected they'd gone through a sufficient grief process.
If only. If only their parent's had discussed end-of-life issues, if only they'd noted ahead of time what they wanted at a memorial service, if only they'd let others know which friends should be contacted in the event of their passing.
That might sound sort of... ghoulish. Personally, I've never found it in the least disconcerting to discuss such issues. Maybe that's because an early loss taught me how swiftly death can come, at any age. Maybe it's because I'm quite practical when it comes to such matters. Maybe it's because I will always remember John having to deal with intrusive details rather than working through his grief at his own Mom's sudden passing. Maybe it's because I know first-hand the importance of discussing medical care issues well ahead of time - it turns out that John & I have radically different ideas on taking extraordinary measures, differences that are so extreme I gave someone else my medical power of attorney.
There is no 2nd guessing when we are going to pass. Dad died just around my age. I know, first hand, the heartache he felt leaving my Mom without the support measures he could have put in place ahead of time. I remember, as he was getting ready to leave our house for the nursing home where - in less than a month - he ended his days, his stricken face. Mom put her arms around him & tried to console him with, "Pete, I'll be okay. I have two fine sons to take care of me." Will never forget him lowering his head, shaking it. Broke my heart then, breaks it again as I remember it. He grieved for all he could have set up to protect her in his absence, yet had never thought of because there'd be time enough.
One of the things I want to accomplish through my older2elder efforts is helping people of all ages have those conversations. It's never too early or too late to start. Mom was quite an age - 87 - when we had ours. Up until that trip homeward, I could have made educated guesses about what she wanted, but how much better was it to actually KNOW, to be able to just implement rather than plan her memorial celebration.
Using Erin & Doug Kramp's incredible book, Living With The End In Mind, will talk a look at the different things we can do to make our here & now life fuller, our final days more bearable, and our passing even uplifting for those we leave behind.
How can each of us live with the end in mind? We can do what we can to be prepared. It might be among our greatest legacies.
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