Death and Dying

Death is my teacher.  My father became ill in 1948 when I was two years old.  After his death in 1959, my family handled the loss by not speaking about it.  I vowed never to experience death in silence again.  I was trained as a hospice volunteer in 1997, but took a leave because my senile mother was dying.  She was a hospice patient for 10 months.  The tender daily care she received revived her interest in eating, so she lived on for many years, bedridden, helpless, perched on a ledge between life and death along with many other Alzheimer's patients.  She spent her last years in a nursing home ten miles from my home and died while I was out of the country in April 2007.  My husband Vic was with her in her last hours.  Vic, my lover, friend, and companion of 42 years, died on June 3, 2008.  He had been sick with an aggressive and incurable form of lymphoma for two years.  I'm writing about our experience of illness, care-giving, bereavement, and love and will post some of these essays when I feel tough enough. 

The Blessing: Despite my mother's extreme physical weakness and Alzheimer's disease, I learned it is never too late to heal our hearts.

From Medicine to Mercy: I wrote this about an experience I had with my mother a few years ago.  It explores the struggle to make good medical choices for someone who cannot make them for herself.

Death Without Hospice, Life With Hospice: I wrote this essay in May, 2000.  It was used by the New York State Hospice Association in their newsletter and in the NY State Legislative Gazette to encourage funding support for Hospice.

© 2009 Elaine Mansfield