My sister, Anita, died yesterday, Friday June 17th.

Wednesday, the 14th, I didn't get on the net in the evening to answer my emails and such, the way I normally do. Neither did my husband. So the phone was free. Finally just before bed at about 10:45 I decided to check my emails. One had come in at 7:30. It was from my sister's daughter. She said that she didn't expect her mother to live through the night, that she had the look on her face like an animal gets before it dies, eyes glazed, food just ran out of her mouth. She was unresponsive. My niece was not at her parents' home when she wrote the email, her brother and his wife were. It did not feel urgent for me to get to my sister's house. It was late, so I didn't want to call my brother-in-law, Dan, just in case everyone was asleep. The next morning, Thursday, at nine I called, expecting Dan to say my sister was dead. He said she seemed to have come out of it a little and was willing to take in Popsicles and eat a little something. So my husband and I immediately drove up.

I kept in mind the things I was still reading from the book, Final Gifts, as well as the things I had learned from other deaths of those close to me. We arrived at the house and Anita was laying in the easy chair beside the couch. She responded to me, and I told her I love her. In a very weak soft voice she told me she loved me too. There was no doubt that she was going to die or slip into a deep coma soon. She's diabetic - the chemo caused that - and her blood sugar was down to 40, which is extremely low. Dan had been trying to get her to eat and drink, but she was no longer willing to do that very much of the time. She finally had a little orange juice and a little candy. Her blood sugar rose to 98. Her face had, by now, lost all the lines. It looked thin and frail, though the rest of her did not look emaciated. She could not hold herself up. Each time Dan gave her something he held her tenderly, spoke sweetly to her. I know he was exhausted from the 5 year fight with the disease. And as she got worse and worse, he slept less and less, but you would never know it from his tone with her. Anita slipped in and out, her mouth open as she "slept." Sometimes she snored. I was sitting next to her when I decided to tell Dan of the dream I had had the night before. In the dream I was in a room with a bunch of people, Anita was there, and she was very ill. In the next scene I was standing outside the front door with Anita. I asked her if she was alive. She said, "I don't know." I woke up.

Their son and his wife and step-son were also there some of the time. There was hugging going on - intense feelings exchanged through the hugs. One time when I hugged my nephew I could feel the energy exchange, and when I pulled away I felt almost a jolt of energy leave me. I knew it was because he was so needy, had no strength, and took some of mine. I've felt energy drains before, but not like this. This was like a smack of it. I felt instantly depleted. I did not mind. He and his wife and son took the opportunity, while Phil and I were there, to go home and get more clothes and things they needed. So while they were gone, and while Phil and Dan were in the other room talking to the pet birds, I decided this was my chance. By then Anita was laying on the couch. I walked over to Anita. Her eyes were closed. I said softly, "It's okay if you want to go home. We will miss you, but if you need to go, we will be all right." She said, "Go home? You are going home?" "No," I said, "I'm talking about you going home." Dan and Phil came back in. Anita said, "go home?" Dan said, "No, they(meaning Phil and me) were not going home yet." She repeated it another time and he reassured her we were not going home.

After my nephew and his wife returned I had the chance to talk to his wife. I have never had the opportunity to get close to her before, but she was so obviously concerned. So we talked and hugged, and I told her about Final Gifts. She said she would get it and read it, so she could help everyone with what they were going through. I felt her soul. She's a good lady. She's been in the family about 4 years. I told her that everyone needed to tell Anita that she had permission to die. She told me her husband was a "puddle." One time when I hugged him I told him he would make it through this somehow. He said he didn't know how. We were all in and out of the house, standing around talking, hugging, like people do at times like this. Phil and I stayed several hours. Then we told my sister goodbye and again told her I love her. She was aware of us. She repeated, "I love you too." As we were leaving Dan walked us out to the car and told us that the night before, his daughter had him read something she found on the web about what to expect as Anita died. He said it was hard to read. He said his son read it too. We talked about when Dan would want me to go pick up Mom - a five hour trip. He wasn't sure yet. We decided to wait until after the hospice visit the next day at one - to wait for their assessment.

On the way home, Phil said what he saw was real family there, and it was beautiful. All the barriers were gone. When Phil and I got home, via email, I sent my niece the name of the book, Final Gifts, since I now knew she would be open to it. The next morning I received an update from Dan by email. I spent the morning reading more of Final Gifts. Phil was on the web. At about 12:20 ish I went downstairs to see if Phil was ready for lunch. Phil was still on the web. We were talking, and he was finishing up what he was doing on the web. At 12:25 we were automatically disconnected from the web. At 1:20ish I received a phone call from Dan. He said, "She's gone." She had died at 12:25.

When Dan called, hospice had just left. Dan told me that his sister was bringing Mom up. So, thank God, I didn't have to. When they had left, Anita was still alive. We worried how this news would affect Mom. She's 86 with a bad heart. Turns out, a little before Anita died, she asked to see her momma. When Dan told Anita that Mom was on her way, a tear came to Anita's eye. In a few minutes she died peacefully at home the way she wanted to.

Phil and I went up immediately. It's an hour away. Anita's body was still on the couch. Since she was being cremated, they waited to have the funeral home come out until after Mom got there so Mom could say good-bye. Since Dan's sister had a cell phone, someone called and told her while she was en route that Anita had died. Dan's sister is a sweet loving person, who has had many losses, so it was good Mom was with her.

Phil and I stayed at the house for some time. There was a lot of sadness, of course. We all did the things families do at times like this. The picture albums are out, phone calls are made. People took turns breaking down and being strong for each other, talking about Anita. Phil has never been around death. (I have been my whole life. My family and I are of pioneer stock, and my family members used to have big families. A myriad of my family members have died over the years, and my parents chose not to protect me from it.) In addition to it being sad for him, Phil was observing the interactions. He said he thought it interesting that it was the men who were the ones visibly breaking down. The women got tears in their eyes, but the men sobbed. Dan, of course, but also his son and his son-in-law. His son in-law lost both his mother and his father in the last year. In addition, people were teasing each other about any little thing, and there was some joking going on. That's how much of my family lessens the stress. My dad always said, "I wouldn't tease you, if I didn't love you, Sissy."

The house was going to be full last night with people sleeping on the floor, in the travel trailer, and stuffed into corners. Phil and I would have been welcome to stay, but we had no need to do so. The memorial service is to be held on Saturday the 25th...the day of the family reunion on my dad's side in another part of the state. The Red Cross arranged for Dan and Anita's grandson, who is in the Navy, to fly home for the service. God bless them.

Last night I was glad to be able to come home to recuperate. The energy drain is extensive when one goes to something like this to offer support and freely give love to those who need it, as well as, dealing with one's own loss. This week, I work on myself, so that when next Saturday arrives, I will have a full supply of love to give to my needy family.

Hurting, but at peace with it,
Vi

[ June 19, 2005, 09:47 PM: Message edited by: Vi ]