My mother-in-law passed away on the 21st of May,
followed shortly by my brother’s mother-in law on the 25th, and just
this Sunday, an elderly lady whom I met in Turkey. While each one
will be sorely missed, all three lived long and venerable lives. What all three also held in common is the fact that their last days were marked by greatly diminished
abilities, and suffering in that they were incapacitated for a prolonged period,
although made as comfortable as possible through medical science.
The horror of dying and the inexorable process of shutting down triggers
an immediate gut response and question: why do we not have the power to choose
the time and manner of our own deaths? Grounded in the tenets of my faith, I
know that the Creator and Author of life is the only one who gives and takes
life, and as His creatures, made in His image and likeness, we respect that right,
acknowledging the sanctity of life, and recognizing that death is but a
transition to a new life of eternal bliss, in union with Him.
And yet, I am tempted to rebel when I see the weeks, months, and
even years of prolonged suffering, living with limited mental or physical
capabilities, where many become pale shadows of who they were, and turn into querulous,
depressed or intransigent beings.
However, if I look deeper beneath the surface of the semantics of
dying, I can see that God never abandons us, Jesus is always walking with us,
and there are many opportunities for grace, abundant blessings, all teaching me
how to be a better person, more human, that is, to be patient, steadfast, forbearing,
gentle, compassionate, generous, merciful… the list goes on.
Even though the dying person may not be conscious, he or she can
bless those around them in innumerable ways. The ones who are present for the
journey gain much, even if they themselves suffer much from witnessing the process
of dying firsthand.
Looking back on my own journeying with people, I can see I have
been given valuable gifts. My dying father gave me the gift of faith, my dying
aunt gave me the gift of hope, my dying cousin gave me the gift of faithfulness,
and my mother-in-law has given me the gift of piety, the wonderful gift of how to
be dutiful and virtuous, and the ability to demonstrate a fidelity to natural
obligations.
While I did not really know my mother-in-law who had advanced dementia by the time P and I met, she was someone whom P loved and honoured, and I have gotten to know
her through my husband and his siblings. I can see that she was someone who
valued manners, honesty, diligence, discipline and generosity. She had integrity
and wisdom, and she had a heart for those who were in need, often reaching out
a helping hand. She was strong on duty, and good old-fashioned values. I know
all this because P is someone who displays all these qualities which I am sure
have been bequeathed to him by both his father and mother.
Sitting with P, by her bedside, praying for God’s will in all
things, I was able to witness how God’s divine mercy shaped the events leading
to death, how she held on until all her children could be present for the wake
and funeral mass, and how she was made comfortable to the very end. It was heartwarming
to see how her grandchildren gathered around her, and how her death has brought
the extended family closer together, which I am sure she is very pleased about.
Dying is a horrific process, and it always will be, but I can also see how it can be life-giving and transformative for those who are left behind. Plus, in time, we will all be reunited. Thank you, Mummy, for the gift of P in my life, and for teaching him so well that he is such a good man, a true reflection of who you were, a good woman. Till we meet in heaven.
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