Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Accompanying the Dying
A couple nights ago, I woke in the middle of the night in a state of anxiety. A poem came to me and luckily I was able to remember it the next morning. I don't think the poem is just about me. In part I think it was about my Mom and my Dad and their deaths many years ago. But it is also about anyone who is dying and our responsibility (our opportunity) to accompany them--as far as we are able. Some people, those who work for hospice, do this every day. God Bless them!
Middle of night
I wake in a sweat,
imagining my own death,
gripped by fear of what comes after
and terribly terribly lonely--
wishing someone would hold my hand
as far as possible.
[Robert M. Coughlin / April 1, 2014]