End of life rituals: A final gift of love


faith in handsWaiting for someone to die is like waiting for a new baby to be born. And I’m waiting. . . waiting for my mom to pass. My daughter gave birth last month. . .so I waited anxiously to greet the newborn babe. I was anxious because any number of things can go wrong during a birth. I cried with relief after my daughter pushed out her perfect baby, who entered the world with the wail we expect and cheer.

Now I’m crying because I’m losing my mother, a little bit each day. As her energy fades, her mind fogs over, and her physical form diminishes, I hold onto the last thread of communication that we have. “I love you, Mom.” I tell her over and over again. She hears me, but she doesn’t hear much else because she is severely hearing impaired . . . and her cognition is fading.

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