I’ve known Cheryl for, gosh, over 15 years now. She is, and will always be, one of my dearest, most cherished friends. Thursday night, her mother passed away. She had moved back East from Los Angeles, where I met her in the early 90s, in large part to spend more time with her mom, to heal old wounds, and to forge a new understanding in their relationship. Happily, Cheryl and her mom accomplished that before Thursday.
The story of her mom’s last days is a lesson to us all, if we’re given the choice as to how to die. Her mom had uterine cancer and by the time she died, it had spread quite a bit. Medicare had paid for a hospice nurse to not only help Cheryl’s mom but Cheryl herself since she had moved in recently to be closer to her Mom and to assist her Mom in daily living.
Earlier in the week, there had been an incident that would have prompted many people to have sent their loved one to the hospital, in an attempt to wrest a few more hours together. Her Mom had had a seizure. However, Cheryl and the hospice nurse told the paramedics, who were summoned by another loved one, to simply leave. They did. And thank God they did because a few days later, when she did pass away, she was in her own home, with Cheryl’s beloved cat of 2 decades resting on her Mom’s lap, and Cheryl and her sister singing to her. In other words, no machines or horrible lights or beeping or strangers—just love.
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