I had been caring for a vibrant woman called Emily in residential care for three Years.
As she approached her eighty-ninth birthday, expressing that she was tired and wanted to let go. Her health was deteriorating, and within days after her birthday, Emily was deemed palliative.
I would attempt to cheer her each day with anecdotes and trivia to brighten her day. Emily had lost her husband twenty years before and had one son, Martin. He visited daily and was a dedicated son who wanted to make his mother’s last days memorable.
Martin and I became friends, asking me how to make his mother happy and safe. I suggested that he recall stories from his childhood, starting with his earliest recollections.
As Martin gently squeezed his mother’s hand, memories washed over him like a gentle warm tide.
He remembered long summer afternoons spent in the garden, running along the beach, splashing in the ocean, his mother cheering him on with that familiar joyous laughter.
The scent of freshly cut grass, her distinctive perfume and the sweet taste of home-baked food in his mind, a perfect backdrop to those simpler days.
He glanced at Emily, whose eyes sparkled with love and understanding. She had always been his rock, the one who kept him grounded during the stormy seasons of life.
Watching her now, he felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the loving care throughout their life together as mother and son, especially during those challenging times.
Memories such as Christmas past, anniversaries, birthdays and special events brought smiles and tears to both of them simultaneously in shared experiences only they were privy to.
Despite the somberness of the room, a smile crept across his face at the memories he had just recalled.
I would talk to Martin before and after his visits to Emily, needing the reassurance that what he was doing would help deal with the grief ahead. I would validate that it would add comfort, and calmness to his mother and solace for Martin.
Music would be played in her room, especially her favourite melodies.
As the days passed by and Emily began sleeping more, Martin would continue their life journey through stories. In a fleeting moment of clarity, Emily opened her eyes, smiled at Martin, and expressed her enduring love for him.
With those final words, she bid him farewell before peacefully passing away.
Martin was moved to tears, and I offered a comforting embrace, providing support during his time of need. The stories held a precious gift that would guide him through the trials that lay ahead, memories that would be forever etched in his heart and mind.
In that moment, amid memories and shared laughter, Martin felt a profound sense of connection to the most important woman in his life. They were united in strength and love, drawing comfort from one another as they faced the inevitable together.
Research suggests that even as your body slips into unconsciousness, you may still be able to feel the comforting touch of loved ones and hear their voices. Touch and hearing are the last senses to leave us when we pass away.
At Martin’s invitation, I attended the funeral. During the eulogy, Martin recounted his mother’s final days and how my advice to create nostalgic memories through storytelling at her bedside had helped him process her passing.
This strategy gave him the strength to remain calm and in the moment for his mother and gave him time to reflect on their lifetime of memories. He hoped that all care staff would assist the family in the same way that he had been guided and supported.
How touching to have those precious times between Emily and Martin, I wish I’d been able to have those moments with my parents.
Thanks you Michael for sharing that story.