The social worker, Barb, pointed out that sometimes people have certain ideas of how they want to die, and they'll hang on until those needs are met. She encouraged us to start thinking about, if we were James, how would we want to die? And then go about creating that kind of atmosphere so that he has an opportunity to pass on the way that he wants to.
It occurred to me that from what I know of my brother, he would most likely want to pass on not alone, but surrounded by his family. Maybe I'm off, but I really get that feeling. Which would explain why he's still around--he's never surrounded by all of us at the same time anymore, with the TV off and our attention on him. We've all been hoping/dreading that he will die in the night, in his sleep (the dread would be from finding him in the morning). But now I feel as though he would very much resist that. James is a guy who loves family.
I talked about it with my dad last night; both of us have sensed a change in James in the past week. I honestly, truly, sincerely believe that he is getting ready to go now. I've thought he would die before; we've planned his funeral so many times in the past. One of my earliest memories is of planning his funeral. I was like 7 or 9 or something. So it's not like we've never thought he would die before. But this is the first time I've felt like he himself is preparing to pass.
There has been a change.
So we're going to work as a family to start creating more of an atmosphere conducive to a gentle passing on, and I think that will be good. For him, and for us.
From Ecclesiastes 7, where I studied yesterday:
1 A good name is better than precious ointment; and the day of death than the day of one's birth.
2 It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.
3 Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.
4 The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.
In other news, James has been home from school every day this week so far, first with 104+ -degree fevers, and now because he hasn't urinated in 22 hours. Right now I'm just waiting for hospice to get here with a catheter. And now you know TMI about my life. Sorry.
It makes me so sad to read this, because I've met your brother and he's lovely, and even though we all know that this is coming, it's still so hard to deal with. I'm thinking of your family and wishing you all the best. I know you will give James exactly what he needs at this point in his life, and be there for him the same way you always have been. *hug* (Hopefully I will see you soon and can give you a real, in-person hug! I've moved as of this week, so I'm not just round the corner anymore...)
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