Toward the end of my mother's life I spent a lot of time with her, staying overnight with her because she was afraid to be alone. She couldn't talk much but she did ask why it was taking so long. She was not in pain but she was clearly struggling with living every day.
Our conversations became shorter as she declined. She didn't talk very much. I talked about what a good family she had and about how we would carry on as she and the rest of the family did after her mother and father died. I could see a small twinkle in her eye when I said we'd all be stuck in the cold weather while she'd be golfing where the sun was shining.
When she was actively dying we didn't say much of anything. I sat and held her hand when she took her last breath. I had promised her that I would be there when she died if I could and that I would hold her hand. I was glad I was able to keep my promise.
I don't miss the conversations about death, and as much as I would like to forget them, I know I will remember them at times. I hope that if I ever have to go through a similar experience, that the time I spent with my mom will help me know what to say and how to help the one who is dying. And when my time comes I hope I will keep in mind to use humor as much as possible to help my helper through it.
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