I learned today of the deaths of two of my hospice patients. May their families and friends be comforted.
The first patient was my longer-term one, who I had been visiting for a few months now. We tied fleece blankets together, discussed recipes and looked at her handwritten cookbooks (I even made her cabbage soup--and it was good!), watched and laughed at "The Chew" and soap operas, sang Christmas carols, talked about her work in WWII which was one of her proudest moments, shared stories of her immigrant family especially her oldest sister, and looked at pictures of her children and grandchildren. She was such a light, a real joy; and she was so at peace and ease with her life and its end. I was privileged to have sat with her.
I visited my other patient only once and she died the next day. But we helped her and her daughter share a moment and say "I love you" to each other. That, too, was a gift.
And so I mark the passing of these patients and know I will carry each of them, as all of the others, with me.
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