Category Archives: On Death & Dying

Dealing with Death, Feelings Associated with Death

The Him I Knew

How we all, leave this world, with nothing, because we came, with nothing, but our, skins, and bones!  Translated…

Before I’d pulled his pants down that scent already, took over, the, entire space, as I’d received a call from his eldest, I’d, rushed over immediately, and, I couldn’t have, imagined it like this—he’d not had a diaper change in almost an entire, day.  I’d tried to, not allow the shock of what I saw, as well as the scent to get to me, but I’d, changed my thought, that he must’ve been, the one who’d been. Most uncomfortable of all, who’d been bed ridden all day, and couldn’t work up the strength, to go to the toilets.

The patient from the same room told, that he’d watched many hired nurses run away already.  He’d once gotten the investment opportunities just right, opened up a small scale company in Vietnam, or maybe it’s because of this, he’s always, with that flare of the hotshot boss, whether it be toward the nurses who’d come to change the dressings on his wounds, or the caretaker, even the patient in the next bed across from him, he’d, started, ordering them around, or maybe, he was, stuck in the terminal ill ward, that he felt awful how he couldn’t control his own bodily functions, and change his own predicaments, that he can only cuss aloud, smash everything he could get his hands on, to relieve his anger.

That day, before I’d entered into the hospital room, I’d heard a group of people talking inside, those friends, relatives, families, and everybody he knew were there, rushed in, diluted the air.  They’d talked incessantly, of the matters of business of his company, handed the documents one by one over to him, signed, stamped, signed, stamped………when every document was in order and valid, then, suddenly, the crowd, dissipated again.

this, is how we’ll, ALL, “go”…

查看來源圖片
photo from online

And it was also on the day, that he’d, had that conversation with me, talked of how he’d, broke grounds, made a land livable, how he’d, carried the burdens of hundreds of families on his back, how he’d, had to, grit down his teeth, and worked hard, there’s not that look of anger, violence in his eyes then, nor the lack of light, instead, his eyes, they’d, glowed, like how he suddenly, aged, how his younger, able-bodied self had, switched with his current, ailing, aging, rotting away, body; he’d talked of his wife who’d died, how she’d, assisted alongside him, his eyes became soft, his lips, raised upward, and as he’d told, he’d started, crying then.

The days that followed, until the white cloth got pulled over him, nobody he knew ever came visiting, don’t now if he’d known, that his end was, near, the days before his passing, he’d thanked all the doctors, nurses who’d treated him during the past, and apologized for his losing control toward them.

Seeing how one bed got wheeled out, another, wheeled in, it’d made me feel, that this cycle is, never-ending, that it’s, inevitable, but I can’t help but feel, about it deeply.

So, no matter what a hotshot big boss you are, you are still going to end, inside, that PINEBOX, and everything IS, equalized, you don’t come with nothing, you don’t leave with, NOTHING, but your skins, and bones!

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life

As Death, Approached…

He’d started, noticing death, wandering around and about, outside of, his doors, at first, he wasn’t, alerted one bit, he’s still, quite young, death couldn’t, come for him, not yet anyways!

As death, approached, he’d, shockingly realized, that it’s, coming, for me!!!  And he’d, flown, into, that frenzy, started off in panic mode: how can this be?  I’d been, very careful of my own health, no, that’s not it, it can’t be here, for me, I must be, mistaken…

hear his footsteps, getting closer, and closer, and closer yet…

查看來源圖片
photo from online

As death, approached, he’d grown, weaker, as death became, stronger by the day, lurking over his head, and now, he lay, in that, white-washed walled, hospital room, with every cell in his body, tuned in to, the fears that death made him feel.

As death, approached, he knew that there’s, NO escaping it, for, NOBODY lives, forever, and, he’d, started, slowly, accepting, that this could be, his own, end.  As death, approached, it’d, grazed him, left but, a scorch mark on his soul, but he’s still, breathing, so that’s, a sort of a blessing, isn’t it???

As death, approached, all of us, held our breaths in, hoping, praying, with our fingers crossed, that it wasn’t, here, for us, not just yet, but, death comes, to EVERY life, there’s, NO way of, escaping it!

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Filed under Expectations, Loss, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

I See, a Poem

As we’re, about to, die…translated…

Death, Should be a Healthy & Joyous, Journey Away,

Without the Physical Forms, Playing on Time Lightly.  But, Would You be, Willing to, Go?

The Soul Arrives First at a Place Called Dreaming

Waiting

The Body Walked Closer, on that Forked Road

Hesitant.  Whatever Came to Mind, Appeared; Whatever was Call Aloud Echoed Back

As You Wake, You Found Yourself, Still, Lying on the Hospital Bed

Sunken, in Your Own, Illnesses, Hearing the Conversation of Blood & Resting, in Peace

查看來源圖片
shadowing, over our lives…sketch from online

The Sudden Cough Blocked Out the Phlegm, I Saw

The Bones, Broken by the Coughs, Piercing Through the Flesh

The Voice that Signified Anger Toward the Pains Came Out

Slowly, Vanishing in-Between What You Can’t Lost

There’s a Smear of Blood in the Lighting of the Hallways of the Hospital

A Thin, Naked Man, Held Himself Tightly, as He is, Wheeled, Out of the Treatment Room

A Few Male Nurses Hovered All that’s Remained, the Clothes,

And I See

The Moaning of Time Following Outside, with Tears Streaming Down its, Face

And so, this, is what old age, the ill, the hospital, the terminal wards looked like, there’s always the shadows of death, lurking around, each and every hospital room, and staying in the hospital is that feel of unease, because we don’t know, when death is, coming to, claim us…

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

Farewell

The thoughtfulness of your mother, for setting UP her own, final affairs, as she knew you would have, more than enough on your plates, when she passes away, translated…

I want the Chinese traditional dress from Longdee!  Don’t forget it”.  My mother told me, with careful thought.  I’d watched T.V., with no mind on her, ranting.  I’d come home once in a long, long, long while, and you feared that I might forget, and so, you’d, reminded me, again, and again, of the after-death, how you wanted the white flowers at your funeral, the photo, the one of you as the head chair of the society, to select the traditional Chinese dress at the mall counters, let alone, you’d already, bought a slot for your urn already.  I’d always thought you worried too much, you’d only begun to use insulin to keep your diabetes under control.

Then, the wound from the skin peel off of your toes, left you scared for more than a year, you’d no longer dared to walk, not to mention, head outside.

“I’d not accounted for the cost of the hired nurse yet,” you’d sighed.

“We’ll pay for it, then, sell off that smallest house, you already own so many properties already!”

“No, that one’s for you!”

I can’t understand you.

“You’re already, immobilized, make yourself more comfortable, that’s, the task now!  Take a cab when you go out, don’t save up on this, go visit with your girlfriends, it’s way better than staying cramped up at home!”

Your health deteriorates by the day.  The first time you got lifted to the E.R., you’d ushered my younger brother to send out your DNR.  Your dialysis left the accumulation of fluids in your systems, you’d insisted not going to the hospital, said that in a few days, you will be like the elderly woman next door, die on her own, at home, I’d begged you, who was clearly, in a whole lot of pain, gotten down on my knees, then you’d, finally allowed the paramedics to move you, onto the ambulance.  As you went in, the doctor said you’re about to go into shock, wanted me to sign you treatment slip, I’d told, that you want the do-not-resuscitate orders, the physician got angered, and asked, “then why did you come to the hospital?”  Tears came running, and I was left, without, any, replies.

illustration from UDN.com

圖/豆寶

Several months later, you’d left, without, disturbing anyone.  An elder had already been told, that we were to get reminded to find that handwritten last will of yours in your room.  You’d written out how the assets would be split up, and how you were, more than grateful for my younger brother’s taking care of you, worried that our older brother has the pressures of mortgage, that was why you’d left him the shopfront, and insisted that your daughters who were married all have a share of your assets.  And we also found the four extra developed copies of the family photo, with the names of the three of us, sons and daughter and our father on it, for us to keep.

I’d prepared your favorite foods and drinks on the forty-nineth day after you died, and you were happy, and allowed us to know how pleased you were.  On the way home, I’d asked my two kids what I liked to eat, and they couldn’t tell.  And it’d, suddenly dawned on me, because you knew we didn’t know you that well, that’s why you’d, made the specifications; to not get us off our guards, you’d needed to, set everything up beforehand; worried that those of us who are still here might be distraught, you’d, found ways, to offer us the solace.

Your love, my mother, still never let go, until, your, final, moment in life!

And so, this, is the considerations of your elders, because losing your mother would hit hard, and she knew it, and so, your mother had, set everything up, and all you and your siblings, your loved ones had to do, is to, just follow her instructions, that, is the thoughtfulness of your elders, toward you.

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

That Day, Unknown

On watching her husband, suffer, with his terminal illness, waiting, for death to come and, claim him, translated…

That day, my husband was, wheeled into the treatment room, had a “smooth ride” of his cancer treatment processes, no loss of hair, no losing all his weight, he’d only, complained of aches and pains more often, and as the primary treating physician visited his ward, he’d only, begged him for more pain meds, but, after the pains subsided, another sort of illness, took him over.

One afternoon, I’d, rushed off to the hospital, it was the call of the caretaker from the bed next to his.  I’d never seen him like this before, lips trembling continually, kept apologizing repeatedly, I’m sorry, I’m, sorry, the group of doctors hovered over his bed, and started discussing, and because my husband was in and out of comas, and started calling aloud things that don’t make sense, fearing that it might affect the other patients who shared the same room as he, they’d decided to wheel him into the treatment room.

查看來源圖片
as he’d, become like this…photo from online

And after that we’d, taken, that downhill slope toward, the bottom, he could laugh and chat at first, but, with his getting diagnosed with acute pneumonia, he had an intubation, and because of how the hospital worried that he might hurt himself, they’d, restrained him with the cloth bands to his bed, and his elbows now, bruised up, with the days that came and went, his skins ulcered.  Every day, he’d slept, waken up, waken up, and slept, and can only, stare at the ceilings, as he’d come home from work from before, he’d, ranted, incessantly on what went on during his work day, he can, no longer speak a single word now, and it must be, too, trying for him.

At first, my husband mapped out his, recovery plan, placed it at the bottom of his, desk drawer, he had a strong will to survive then, was optimistic on this path to, defeat cancer, and yet, months passed by, the life and death that came and went in the hospital wards, the elderly who was still there on the next bed, got wheeled out with a white cloth covering the bed today, my husband also, transferred from the normal wards, into the I.C.U., and connected to the machines to live now.

Once, I’d, gotten closed to his ears, told him, “if you still want to live, nod”.  And it wasn’t, as I’d expected, a nod, he’d shaken his head then, for a very, very, long time, with the tears that stained up a huge chunk of his, pillow.  While I, too selfish, can only, struggle within my own self, after I’d made up my mind, I’d still, tried to keep the moments of visiting him in the hospital afterwork, again, and again, and again, hour by hour, and, begged for that, unknown day, to finally, come.

And so, this, is how difficult it is, to watch someone you love very dearly, get tortured by his, illness, and, at the start he had this strong will to survive, thought he was going to, overcome, but, as time went by, he grew weaker, sicker, and now, he can only, lie in his hospital bed, and wait for death, and there’s, nothing you CAN do for him, save for, sign that DNR on his, behalf now.

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Filed under Awareness, Do-Not-Resuscitate, Life, On Death & Dying, Properties of Life, Right to Die, the Finality of Life, The Right to Choose How One Will Die, Values

A Brighter, Ordinary, Day, a Poem

What’s, left, behind, translated…

The Wavelength that Passed Through the Collar of the Asteroid Belt of the Aging Dog of the Astronomer

The Blue Whale’s Lowered Whispers with the Trashed Submarine

Gave the Bay a Glow

I Lifted My Head up to the Darkness

Who Was it

That Forgot, to Turn the Lights within Our Bodies, Off

On the Shoulders of the General

That Invisible Kitty, Pounced on the Firing Squad from Before He Was, Still, Living

(The Songs of Sorrows from the Beginning

The Assets Immaterial in the Very End)

These Stanzas of the Poems, Shall Get Beyond What’s Been Destroyed Between You & Me, Sailing, All the Way, into, the, Skies

And so, this is on what’s left, after everything go, BOOM!  What remained, of the love, of the life that’s, gone, what is taken from the examples of these lives, lived………

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Filed under Creative Writing, Lessons, Letting Go, Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Translated Work, Writing

The Most, Unforgettable, Words

Because you’d, spent some time with your own mother, you have, NO regrets, after she’d, died, translated…

“The North Wind Blow/the Snow Falls/Underneath that Lonely Light/Only My Mother………” that folk song came, from the radio, and it’d, roused up the feelings of missing my own mom, along with our very last, conversation.  The lucid memories are like the wind, taking me, to that old mansion, so suddenly.

It was February that year, the weather, a bit, colder, my father-in-law was in critical condition, hospitalized, and, I had another worry, my mother, who’s not, doing at all, that well.  I’d called home during that time, my mom who’s, weakened was always, too drowsy, only spoke a few short words, then, passed out.

One day I received a call from the hired caretaker, said that my mother’s oxygen level was low in her blood, my heart tightened, and I took the high-speed rail, southbound immediately.

The afternoon sunshine, slanted in to the vacant living room, passed through that long hallway, I’d arrived at the bedroom on the first floor, where my mother was, fast, asleep.  I walked to the bed, saw her slender face, the room was filled with the sound of the blood-oxygen machine and her heavy breathing.

I’d called to her light, “Mom, I’m home!”, she’d opened up her eyes, “Why are you home?  Have you eaten yet?”, then, she told me she wanted to get out of bed, and I’d, helped her onto the wheelchair with the homecare nurse, and took her to the living room.

on her, deathbed…

like this??? Artwork from online

My mother’s weakened body can’t sit up straight, she’d told me weakly, that her mouth tasted, bitter, I told the nurse, to get some plum pieces, that was from two weeks ago when I’d come home, it was my mother’s, favorite.  The nurse broke off a small piece to give to her, she’d looked at the nurse, told, “Give some to second eldest too.”  Her words was this surge of warmth, entered into my body, that was my mother’s love for me, I knew she was sharing it because she loved it so.

Not long thereafter, she’d told us she was short of breath, wanted to return back to bed to lie.  So we’d, wheeled her back to her bedroom, put her to bed, then, she fell into a comatose, slurred her speech, until the end.

As I’d lost my father and my eldest sister, they’d not had the opportunities to have a final word with us, and so, my mother’s, “give a piece to second eldest” became something cherished, it was the love overflowing for me from my mother, and it’s, also, something that was, unforgettable, as I’d, remembered my mother since.

And so, this, is on life and death, of how important it is, to BE with, one’s own parents, of how important those moments that you will NEVER get a chance to live again means, after the loved ones, passed on, to leave, NO words of love unsaid, to have, NO regrets, left behind!

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Filed under Family Dynamics, Family Matters, Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

The Gift of, Love

The final gift of love, of acceptance, she’d, left, for her son to have, after she’d, passed away, translated…

The red-and-violet colored paperflower are in full bloom in the garden, she sat, in her wheelchair, with her son, pushing her around, going between the bushes, the wooden beams of the floral rack cut the sunshine into, chunks, and this is, a freeze frame of bliss, while the footsteps of death, are, quarantined, in another, space.

She was hospitalized from the complications of her lung cancer’s metastasis, stayed in the terminal ward now, and, just like most of the single mothers, she’d, worked hard, raised her son up to a man, and her son is, in the high-tech industries, making the top dollars too, and although, he’d, studied away, and worked in a city away from where she lives, the two of them mother and son, don’t see each other regularly, but she’d, firmly believed, that the youths, the breaking up of the earlier years in her marriage, what’s waiting toward the end, is the blessings she was, bound to receive, and yet, her blessings had, yet to be granted to her, and, she’s now, faced with death.  I’d, consoled with her, that her son took a leave of absence for FOURTEEN days from work, just to stay by her side, that instead of wallowing in self-pity, she should instead, cherish this time she has with him, because this, was such, a rare occasions, when it’s just the two of them, mother, and son together!

“My empress, I’m here, for my shift.  Sir, you can, head over to the bank to sort your business out, and worry not, the empress I shall keep, company of!” I’d, intentionally, bowed to her, as the ancient imperial times, she’d started, laughing, and told, that her mood’s lifted up since she started living here.  Her son also told me, “thank you, aunty volunteer!  Since my mother got here, her body stopped hurting and she’s, sleeping, better too!”

illustration from UDN.com

圖╱林蔡鴻

Seeing this wonderful kid off, she’d, smiled that satisfactory, smile, then, handed me her cell, wanted me to record her last words on voicefile for her, that was, the gift she has, for her son, and that, was the very first time I’d ever heard of someone using her last words, as a gift.

We’d, used the backdrop of the flowers in full bloom, and she’d, started, stating the words using the accent of Hakka speaking in Mandarin, told her son things.  She’d felt, that she was always, someone, who’d, lowered her head, worked hard, and NEVER had the courage to, shoulder anything, so a lot of things, she’d, told her son to decide for her.  And, she’d wanted to apologize to her son too, that she’d known of his secrets long ago, she just, didn’t say anything, she was, struggling with it, blamed herself, believed, that it was because she’d not shown him enough care and concern, to cause him to “turn” this way, then, she’d felt that if her son can have someone who’s, supportive of him, a partner for life, so what if, it’s another man that he’s, in love with?  But, as she’s still living, she didn’t have the courage to face her son’s, “friend”, but, she offered them, her fullest, blessings now, this was, the only gift she can, leave, behind for them both………

As the fourteen days were up, her son left for work, on the noon, shortly after we’d, brushed her hair, bathed her body, she’d, set sail, to the, other side.  I’d, handed the cell phone to her son, told him that his mother’s, last words were in the voice recordings.

As I past the waiting room of the families, I saw a good looking, older boy sitting, and my instinct told me, that he was, it, I’d asked him to head into the hospital ward, to be with his “friend”, and tell her thanks, goodbye, that aunt had already, given them, her, blessings.

After I took that boy to the ward, I’d gone to water the plants in the garden, and, that paperflower bloomed, even more, radiantly under the bright sunshine, and I’d, recalled how it was, when I’d, recorded her last words for her, and I’d started humming that oldie, “I want to give you the gift of love, wishing you, all the, happiness of the world…………”

This, is the final gift this mother gave to her son, and, the man’s homosexuality, must’ve, caused some unease in their lives, but, I’m sure, that after this man hears the recording of his mother’s, final words, he will realize, that she’d always been on his side…

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Filed under Homosexuality, Life, On Death & Dying, Parenting/Parenthood, Properties of Life

The Warmth of that Halo from an Angel

查看來源圖片
volunteer companion for the elderly here, photo from online

Grateful toward the volunteers at the hospital, for helping you with your father’s, final passage of life, and now, you hoped to, pass that same kindness onward too, translated…

He’d Asked Me to Think Hard on the Matter, So I Don’t Have Any Regrets, Those Eyes, Peaceful as the Oceans without the Waves, Reflected the Gentle Light of the Moon, and They’d Understood, All My Worries, My Considerations………..

After reading Mr. Zheng-Hsiung Hsu’s “I Volunteer at the E.R.”, my mind was pulled back to the E.R. of the hospital twelve years ago.  Back then, it was just the beginning of the springtime, the sunshine outside was warming, while my heart, my mind was, experiencing the sleet, the snow, the hail, it’d felt like my world was, crumbling down.

I Am, Making the Right Decisions, aren’t I?

My dear dad was diagnosed with liver cancer, he was eighty-five years old, weakened in his physical health, and mildly, demented too, he’d slept, longer than he was, awake, and it didn’t look good.  As we waited for the hospital room to become available, the doctor asked, “if”, and would I want to resuscitate him?  He’d told me to think on the matter thoroughly, so I won’t have any regrets in the futures, his eyes, peaceful like the oceans without the waves, reflected the gentle rays of the moon, and made me felt that he’d, understood what I was, faced with.

There was the bed that became available in the hospice, I’d taken all our belongings, and an unsettled heart, I’d, wheeled my father, to the place, closest to heaven on earth.  After I’d settled my father in, the nurse, after filling out the forms, left temporarily.  That bed was next to the window, it’d, allowed me to see the blue skies and the moon, to tell if it was night or day; I’d, pull back the curtains, and, this was, the tiny world that belonged to just my father and I.  I’d turned on the T.V., and, switched to Animal Planet, my father’s eyes opened up, and he’d started speaking, “bear!” yes, there was, an American black bear on.

In the sleep and wake of close to twenty days, my father spoke, for the very, first time, I suppose, I’d, made the, right decisions by him then?

The following day after the doctors made the rounds, there was a petit volunteer who’d, led me to familiarize myself with the surrounding environment, but I’d, looked over at my father in the bed, became, hesitant, not wanted to leave his side.  “Don’t worry, your father won’t disappear, it’s a secure place, there are some equipment that you can take him to use, there’s also, an aerial courtyard on the sixth floor, you can wheel your father in the afternoons for some sun.”  She’d patted my shoulders, given me a smile, and I saw two dimples came onto her cheeks.

I’d followed close by her side, as she’d, taken me on that walk-through.  Passing the nurse’s stations, she’d pointed to the tea keg, told, “every morning the volunteers would bring in a fresh brew of tea, you can get some here, and you can soak the teas in the sponges and brush your father’s teeth with it too, it’ll make him feel a whole lot better, having fresh breaths, he’ll surely, have an appetite for food then!”  We’d walked past a huge aquarium, cute Nemo swam in-between the sea anemones, “this tank is Gu’s territory, the young girl, Lin in the next room to your father’s, is a huge fan, and she’d come, more than three times a day to look!”  Passed through the laundry room and the fridge, there was, a prayer room, a small Buddhist shrine, “when you can’t handle it anymore, and not wanted to tell anyone, just come in here!”  The Goddess of Mercy, Jesus Christ, do tell the cancer cells in your father’s systems, that we’re not, trying to kill them, but, please, don’t torture dad, and just, coexist in peace with him.

We’d arrived to the lobby then, the black couch separated the space, on the right, there’s the T.V., the shelves for books, newspapers, and magazines, the corner by the window had the foot massage machines, and the exercise bike, the massage chair, on the left, a simple kitchen, and tale, on the kitchen counters, the food processer, and the Datong rice cooker.  “This is Wang’s area, everything you see is donated by the volunteers, you can use it at your will, just clean them up after you used them, and put the items back where you find them”.  I’d decided, to make some juices for dad then.

She’d continued, “if your dad can’t come over here, then, you can borrow the foot massage and take it back to his hospital room to use.  This couch is quite comfortable, when your families come, you can come here for a short nap, or have your meals here, you’ll feel more at home.”  Her explaining everything was warm, and it’d, energized me, and my heart felt, comforted.

illustration from UDN.com

圖/Emily Chan

She’d Given My Father the Courage to Return Home

That aerial courtyard became a small piece of heaven that my father and I shared, we’d gazed up at the blue skies, the white clouds, watching the butterflies danced, the fish in the lotus pond, and, I noted how that flower started, blooming upward, from the corner of, my father’s, lips.  I’d wondered, would I be, asking too much, if the days just go on like this, forever?

In about a month, my father became, stabilized, the feeding tubes, the catheter, and the drips were all, removed.  The nurses asked, “would you like to take your father home?”, of course I do, but, at home, there’s not the medical profession staff members as back up, and I’d, worried that there might be situations that I couldn’t, handle on my own—oh, I’m so very afraid, that my father would, start, coughing up blood again.

And I was, caught, in this battle once more.  The following day, the volunteer took me to the couch for a chit chat, “you’d taken good care of your father these past few weeks, he would wish to return home, where he’d felt, familiar in, with the families around him.  The nurses’ station will offer the 24-hour support calls, the nurses of the hospice program will visit your home by the week, don’t be afraid, you can, check your father back in if something were to, happen.  I’m sure, that your father will help you out, he does, feel for you, he will, find ways, to encourage you.”  She’d, spoken out my fears, and, gave me the courage to, take dad home.

We’d not returned into the hospital again.  On a weekend supper a month later, he’d opened up those bright eyes wide, and, looked at us deeply for one last time, then, headed up to heaven, to accompany our, grandparents.

I want to say thank you to the men and women who volunteered at the hospital, for giving us that light in the darkness we desperately, needed.  And, when the time comes, I too, shall become, a light for those who are, lost in the darkness, thank you.

And so, this is how kindness gets, passed on down, because you’d, received the emotional support you were in need of during your father’s hospitalization, and the words of the volunteer, helped you cope with your father’s conditions, and as you are, finally healed from the loss of your own father, you plan to, give back to the community, just like these hospital volunteers had done too, passing along, that sense of helping others, that kindness along.

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January 17, 2021 · 5:28 am

A Merciful Murder…

I’d, killed out of mercy, ‘cuz she’d been, suffering too long, losing control over her body, and, it hurt me, watching her die off slowly, little, by little, knowing that, time’s still nowhere NEAR, expiring, Y-E-T!

A merciful murder, I’d, committed, and, I don’t feel bad about what I’d done, because deep down I know, that I’d, murdered out of love, and care for that certain someone.

And maybe, I’ll, get sentenced as a heartless, coldblooded, murderer, but I don’t care, I got a cleared conscience here.  If I’d not murdered the person, then, I will, forever BE gnawed by my own conscience, for NOT doing what’s right by that person I cared too much about.

A merciful murder, I’d, committed, and, I really couldn’t give a !#$%ING RAT’s ASS how everybody else out here in this god DAMN world sees me as: a cold-blooded murderer, an unfitting child, whatever, I KNOW I did it, out of, mercy, my conscience is, clear!!!

A merciful murder, it’s not right to kill someone, in the eyes of the law, but, think about it, if it were your own loved ones who became incapacitated, and their quality of life is dropping by each and every breath they take, wouldn’t you want them to suffer less?

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Filed under Basic Human Rights, Choices, Cost of Living, Euthanasia, Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Pro Life vs. Pro Choice, Properties of Life, Right to Die, the Finality of Life, The Right to Choose How One Will Die