Saying Goodbye: My Spiritual Journey Through Death and Dying

By Jean C. West

Saying Goodbye: My Spiritual Journey through Death and Dying dares to face the basic reality that so much of modern culture strains itself to deny: everyone who lives will die. The hope and the encouragement come, not in pretending that death will not happen, but in shaping the way in which one says goodbye to friends and family.

Jean C. West, who sat with her husband and her siblings as they died, draws upon both her experiences and her research to present a guide to assist all who find themselves in the position making or witnessing end-of-life goodbyes. Her advice covers the circumstances of those who are dying and of others who accompany loved ones in their dying.

Saying Goodbye describes the common landmarks one encounters in a journey through death and dying. It presents special guidance for circumstances in which children are dying. It talks through the sorts of plans one can make in advance of death. It consoles and supports individuals during the time after a loved ones death.

Saying Goodbye: My Spiritual Journey through Death and Dying recognizes that while each persons circumstances and perspective are unique, the common elements of the human experience of death and dying can provide the foundation for saying goodbye and for journeying through times of human mortality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491780442

Jean C. West

Jean C. West has accompanied her husband and siblings as they made their journeys to death. As a hospice volunteer, she serves individuals and loved ones as they face dying. Her deep faith and extensive research undergird the message she shares with others making their farewells to family and friends.

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Saying Goodbye

My Spiritual Journey through Death and Dying

Copyright © 2015 Jean C. West.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-8045-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-8043-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-8044-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015917463

iUniverse rev. date: 10/30/2015

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Karl’s Journey

Chapter Two

Early Stages of Healing

Chapter Three

Dealing with Dying

Taking Inventory of Your Thoughts

Facing Issues Brings Resolution

Getting Your Affairs in Order

Should the Patient Not Feel Physically or Mentally Capable

Chapter Four

Special Goodbyes

Saying Goodbye to Your Spouse

Saying Goodbye to Extended Family and Friends

Chapter Five

Saying Goodbye to Children

General Considerations for Children of All Ages

Atonement

Saying Goodbye to Children Ages Four through Seven

Saying Goodbye to Children Ages Eight through Ten

Saying Goodbye to Children Ages Eleven through Fourteen

Saying Goodbye to Children Ages Fifteen through Seventeen

Saying Goodbye to Children Ages 18 through College Years

Robert’s Story

Saying Goodbye to Adult Children Beyond College Age

Summing Up Saying Goodbye to Children

What You Have Done in Saying Your Goodbyes

Chapter Six

Exploring Options for the Terminally Ill and Their Families

Hospice Care/Palliative Medicine

Home Health Care

Chapter Seven

Facing Death

Is God Listening?

When to Hold On and When to Let Go

Chapter Eight

For Family and Close Friends of the Terminally Ill

For the Spouse of the Patient

Coping with All That Needs to Be Done

Responsibilities That Might be Assigned

Considerations for All Family Members

Follow the Mood of the Patient

When a Parent is Dying

Chapter Nine

Preparation for the Final Days

How to Know if You Are in Denial

Getting Through the Difficult Days of Waiting

Cautions for Family Members

When Family Members Should Hold On or Let Go

Chapter Ten

When Death Is Near

Signs of Approaching Death

Providing Patient Comfort

Chapter Eleven

After Death Has Occurred

Why Have a Wake, Viewing, Funeral and Graveside Service

The Wake or Viewing

The Funeral or Memorial Service

Graveside Service

Gathering of Family and Friends after the Services

Chapter Twelve

Closure and Healing

After the Death of a Parent

After the Death of a Spouse

Cautions about Making Changes after Death of a Spouse

Closure for Children after the Death of a Loved One

Working Through Closure and Grief

Moving Forward

Chapter Thirteen

Coping with the Death of a Parent: Real Stories

Debra’s Story

Bill’s Story

Chapter Fourteen

Coping with the Death of a Child

Lynn’s Story:

After the Death of a Child

Family Activities that Can Help with the Grieving Process

Continuing to Move Forward with Closure

After the Death of an Adult Child

If the Deceased Adult Child was Single

If your Deceased Child was in the Military

Examples of Parents’ Loss and Journey through Grief and Closure

Lucy and Don’s Story

Glenda’s Story

Bob’s Story

Helpful Affirmations after Several Months Have Passed

Chapter Fifteen

Coping With the Murder of a Child

Carol and Roger’s Story

Closure after the Murder of a Child

Supporting Surviving Siblings

Build a Foundation for Progress

Chapter Sixteen

Sudden Death and the Beginning of Closure

Frances’s Story

Sherrie’s Story

When there is No Body to Bury

Self-Assessment after Sudden Loss

Symptoms of Depression

Taking Control

Gloria’s Story

Mary’s Story

Chapter Seventeen

Moving Forward after the Loss of a Loved One

Down the Road after the Loss of a Child

The First Year after Loss

Chapter Eighteen

Facing the Future with a Healed Heart

Mind Control

Chapter Nineteen

My Spiritual Journey

Chapter Twenty

The Big Questions

More Questions

What about Faith? What is It and How Does It Work?

Suggested Reading

To my late husband Karl J. Westfall

Your encouragement and support of me and others

throughout our lives,

especially in the last weeks of your life,

have made this writing possible.

Preface

Life, what is it? A one-act play with no rehearsals and at the end no encores, no second performances. Yet we know there is more. Can we as individuals, families, and members of society come to a place of accepting our own mortality and the mortality of those we love? Each day we live, we move closer to death. Yet we are a death-denying culture. Why is this? Could it be we feel that facing our own mortality is a sign of weakness or of opening a door that we wish to keep closed for as long as possible?

Would accepting our mortality in a healthy and positive way better prepare us for death and not leave us so devastated by the death of someone we love? It seems we can deal with a fast-paced, sophisticated and technologically advanced world, but not our own death or the death of someone we love.

There could not be any more devastating words that a patient and family members could hear. Only weeks to live is frightening enough, but what about the next few moments? What happens then? What do we say?

What about the rest of today? How do we react; how do we behave; what on earth do we do? What about tomorrow, and the rest of this precious time? Like sand from an hourglass, that time has already started to slip away.

Your mind can hardly take it in. Your thoughts fly in many directions. "What about our plans for the future; what about the loved ones left behind? What will it be like?

What will we have to go through between now and that final hour? What will it be like?" Fear is pushing up inside. Shock and disbelief overwhelm you. You’re thinking this is wrong. The doctors are wrong. This can’t be happening. Why is this happening? Why to us? It’s so unfair. Yet you know it is happening and here you are, helpless.

Helpless… not at all.

The purpose of this book is to help the patient, family and friends of anyone in like circumstances in the days ahead and the critical search for God’s peace and closure after death.

In this writing, I seek to explore these questions and look at the powerful options that are available for those who learn that, short of a miracle, they are dying—to offer an understanding of the personal significance of saying goodbye to loved ones.

JW

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge a few individuals who have given their time, talent and abilities to help make this book possible.

Rob Bleam and my husband Jack, what would I have done without your computer expertise?

I would like to thank and acknowledge the following readers of the manuscript; your input and suggestions proved to be of great value to me: Susan Shaw, Bonnie Weiss, Fredericka Bland and Kristy Kinney, you have been there for me so many times. I’m grateful to you for your expertise in reading the manuscript as well as proofing all medical inclusions. Much appreciation goes to Dr. John Hargrove and Dr. Kathryn Hargrove for answering many questions along the way. Your faith and confidence in me and my ability to do this work have been very encouraging.

Thank you to the helpful and wonderful folks at Hospice Savannah, Inc. for answering questions pertaining to your extraordinary organization.

Special thanks to: Dr. James Staubes, John and GiGi Hayden, Ron and Liz Wolff, Shirley Forsell, Margaret Miller, Margaret Mary Vasquez, Sandy Coderre, Linda Fidler, Pat Howard and Lynn Jackson for those times along the way when I dropped the ball with other commitments because I felt I needed to be writing. I knew you understood and covered for me and prayed for me as well. For that I am grateful. You know what you did and what you have meant to me.

My former Sunday school classes of Mauldin & Greenville, S.C., I learned more than you did. You taught me much along the way. A special thanks to Gwyn Balcombe and Gail Galloway. Although we are now scattered around the country, we are still members of the same family because of our faith. Appreciation to my sister Bettie for always being here for me and for your many prayers and friendship; I am grateful.

Special thanks to Pat Chandler, her knowledge and ability without which would have delayed our getting this book to press.

Last but certainly not least, I thank the third person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, for divine inspiration throughout.

J. W.

Chapter One

Karl’s Journey

I heard a bird singing and I thought: How could you sing today? Weep with me. My husband Karl had just been told that he had an incurable, untreatable cancer, with only weeks to live.

Ironically, perhaps, singing was one of the very things we later did with our children, nephews, nieces, and friends to pass that tragic time. It was Karl who led the chorus. He taught us many things, including how to die.

When the doctors say There is nothing more we can do but try to make you comfortable. That does not mean there is nothing more that the patient, family and friends can do. Karl demonstrated that so graciously and effectively that I believe it is worth sharing here with anyone in like circumstances and in need of courage, caring, common sense and self-control in the face of heartbreaking tragedy and loss.

It was early spring. We were looking forward to a business and vacation trip to southern Spain. Our world was painted happy during those weeks and days leading up to departure. There was only one little gray cloud. Karl kept feeling a little fatigued. He was not shy about seeing doctors and although he had passed a physical with flying colors the year before, he decided to check with his doctor again and see if perhaps he needed something for a boost. He started his physical in mid April and by the first of May we were scheduled for a consult with the doctor for test results. The doctor smiled and said You’re in excellent health. We could find no problems whatsoever. Karl, your heart and lungs show no problems; your blood work is all good. Maybe you just need to get to the fitness center a little more often and be sure to get plenty of exercise.

Having received a clean bill of health, Karl naturally felt relieved and the good report uplifted us both. We left for Spain.

After arriving at our hotel in historic Barcelona, we slept for hours to get over jet lag. That evening we were looking forward to dinner with old friends at the convention we were attending. Through the evening, I could not help but notice that whenever the opportunity afforded itself, Karl would always sit rather than stand. In the days that followed he preferred lying by the pool to sightseeing— unlike him, with his curious mind that usually wanted to explore everything. The days we did go sightseeing he would become so fatigued that it would show in his face. He would become pale and it appeared as though no blood was left in his body. He needed to eat and drink often as well as rest. In spite of this, we enjoyed our trip and were glad we had gone.

Back home, we settled into our regular routines, except for one: Karl was sleeping later and after getting up he would ask me to bring him coffee to the bedroom. Usually it was he who was up early and bringing coffee to me.

Karl diligently went to the fitness center and returned looking washed out and exhausted. After resting for about an hour and eating something, he would perk up and try to do routine things. He could have gotten an A-plus for effort, but we in the family could not help but notice how much he had slowed down.

In mid July, we took a trip from Skidaway Island to the mountains of North Carolina. We visited a place to which we retreated every summer for as long as we were married. Karl was noticeably tired when he normally would have been active and out exploring. His only venture was to go with me to eat at a nearby restaurant.

Karl did not complain and by nature was not a complainer, but I noticed he was quieter, not his usual self. Not wanting to make a nuisance of myself, I nevertheless asked him often how he felt. I kept thinking of the clean bill of health he had received and the assurance the doctor gave us in May. But Karl admitted only to being tired, then and in the next several weeks whenever anyone asked.

Preparing for retirement, we had moved our office into our home. Karl still went in to the home office and worked, but I would often notice him sitting at his desk with his head cradled in his hands. We continued to go to the fitness center. Afterward, I would wonder if he could make it home. We often went to out to lunch or dinner, and always to church on Sunday.

The last week in August he insisted on making a trip to the grocery store, post office and bank. He was gone unusually long and when he returned, I was so relieved to see him pull into the driveway. He set a couple of bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and with ashen face walked to our bedroom. Suddenly, he turned around and met me coming down the hall. He put his arms around me and said with tears streaming down his face, Jean, what is wrong with me?

We spent the next day in the doctor’s office having x-rays, et cetera, trying to find a reason for the mysterious weakness. Blood workups were scheduled for the following week. Two days later, Karl went to bed and was unable to get up the next day. He kept saying, Just let me rest. I’ll be all right. Three days later when he still could not stand on his feet and the weakness grew worse and worse, I called 911.

After the emergency room doctor completed a series of tests, which took several hours, she told Karl his blood platelets were extremely low, his white cell count was also low, and that he would be referred to an oncologist because they would be looking for cancer. Our unspoken fears were out in the open. Karl was given something for rest at 4 a.m. I decided to wait just a couple of hours before calling family. By ten-thirty a.m. Karl was surrounded by caring family members who were also in disbelief.

Karl had a hospital stay of two weeks, during which he was diagnosed with a blood disorder that was not life threatening and was told he could live another five years or more. As bad as he’d been feeling, five years looked good to both of us and there was always the possibility of a cure. Our faith was strong.

After he was home, he began to see the oncologist once a week. This would continue for six weeks. He was receiving hormone injections to help build up his red blood cells. At first he improved quickly, and for about two weeks he seemed to be returning to his old self. The third week was not so good; the old weakness had returned. Karl’s spirits and energy were down. Later in the week when we went to see the oncologist, after having his blood tested the lab technician as well as nurses were in a hurry to get Karl off his feet and in the doctor’s presence quickly. Within an hour, he was in the hospital receiving blood transfusions. During the next forty-eight hours he received four units of blood.

Karl and I were both concerned, but we kept up a good front with each other. The results were withheld from Karl for a week, in order to give him time to gain strength after receiving the blood transfusions.

The following Friday, with somber faces Karl, his daughter Kris who is a nurse practitioner, and I waited in the treatment room at the oncologist’s office. The doctor’s arrival caused us all to hold our breath. Warm loving glances were exchanged between us, but words would not come at that moment. I hated the cancer statistics for our country. I hated the disease. And as I looked at my husband, I wished it could be me instead of him. I thought of his two girls, our son, and our grandchildren.

The oncologist told Karl he had an acute leukemia with a very low chance of survival even with treatment. I felt compassion for the young physician who had to be the bearer of such painful news, not only to us but to so many of his patients. Karl asked, How long do I have without treatment? The answer penetrated like a knife into our hearts.

Two to three weeks at the most, said the doctor. I saw the hair stand on Karl’s arms and neck.

Karl finally said, I’m glad you’ve been my doctor.

The oncologist then looked at all of us and asked if he could notify hospice to start on Monday at our home. A few more words were exchanged and we were on our way home. My arms were entwined with Karl’s.

When we arrived at home, our son John was there to meet us. He assumed responsibility in his usual manner and notified family. He hugged his dad and quiet glances were exchanged between them. We knew before long family would be arriving from everywhere. Karl and I went to our room for privacy and wept in each other’s arms. Then, as was his custom when greatly stressed, he slept.

Between then and Sunday afternoon there appeared before us a collage of family faces. Tears, remember when? and I can’t believe this is happening, all ran together. We were a family familiar with loss. Just two short years ago, we had suddenly lost Kevin, Karl’s youngest child, to heart failure. Kevin was the one we assumed would outlive us all. Karl’s first wife had also been a cancer victim. I had lost my father, mother, two brothers and a sister. We were familiar with loss, but not accustomed to it, not hardened. We assured our children we would be all right.

By two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, the house was quiet, Karl was calm; the months of wondering and simply not knowing what was going on in his body were over. He now knew, and that within itself was somewhat of a relief for him. We sat in our den, looked at each other, and were both relaxed; we talked about the children, the grandchildren, and wondered what their lives would bring.

Later, Karl took a long nap, and while he slept I took a short ride along a saltwater marsh near our home. While looking out over the marsh and on to the ocean, I let the tears fall. I prayed. I asked, Why? Karl is such a good, good man! I reasoned with God.

When all was said, I dried my eyes and returned home. Karl awoke and came back to the den and sat on the couch beside me. We just looked into each other’s eyes, not needing to say anything. Sitting there beside me on the couch, Karl was calm and composed. What would you like to do? I asked.

What are my options, he answered.

Well, we could go for a ride, just sit on the porch, or whatever sounds good to you? I said. Why don’t I find a good movie and let’s have a bit of supper.

I quickly put together a Sunday night supper that I knew he would like while he found