The Death of a Loved One and the Healing Afterwards

When a loved one tells you that they have a terminal illness, it is just so hard to know what to say or do. It is such a devastating moment for everyone. This happened recently in my family. They diagnosed my father with terminal liver cancer in January and he died at the end of March. I am writing this article for two reasons: Writing is my way of healing so I hope that by writing this I will be working toward that healing. The other reason is that I hope to help others who are facing this difficult time right now.

My father was always a big man. He was 6'3" tall and before his illness, never weighed less than 250 lbs. He enjoyed life and lived it to the fullest. He was 73 when he became ill and he had worked up until he could no longer. Every one loved him. He was a kind and gentle man.

That was my father before his illness began to steal away every thing that made my father my father. My Mom called us when my Dad got his diagnosis. He had terminal liver cancer and he only had about 2-4 months to live. We had thought that he had recovered completely from the esophageal cancer he was diagnosed with last year. He had even returned to work. We shared a wonderful Christmas together and there was no sign that anything was wrong. So, when we got the news we went into total shock.

I went up to help Mom and Dad. I was there the day the hospice workers came to speak with my parents. Dad told him that he was not worried; he had put all his faith in God and trusted him completely. The hospice workers explained to us the dying process. I guess the body has a way of shutting down in a predictable pattern . The first thing to go is the patient's appetite. This is followed by mental confusion. Often the patient will see those that have gone one before him. One by one all of the body parts seize to function.

The first thing to leave a person is their desire to eat. Dad had already entered this stage when he got the diagnosis of terminal liver cancer. My Mom and Dad had been married for 52 years and Mom had never been alone in her life. When she noticed his declining appetite, she got so scared that all she could do was nag him to eat more.

It was not long after this that Dad entered the hospice center. The people there were wonderful. They were patient with all of us. They explained everything as it happened. They answered all of our questions and took very special care of Dad. These people are saints.

The dying process is not an exact thing. You cannot tell, up until the last few days of life, where you are at on the continuum. During his time at hospice, there were several moments when my Mom became worried that his time was at hand. I went out and stayed with them to help all I could. Dad would have days where he would eat very little at all and soon his thought processes started to suffer as well. However, the hospice workers assured us that this was normal and he still some time left with us.

At one time during his illness, they believed he had reached a plateau. He did not develop any new symptoms so they transferred him to a nursing home. This was a little premature because within 2 weeks he was back at the hospice center.

His mental state had seriously deteriorated. He was having conversations with people who had died long ago. He started acting aggressively toward his care-givers. He swung at them, hollered at them, and demanded that they allow him to leave. His delusional state became permanent. He barely recognized us. He would ramble on. He would say outrageous things. We tried going along him. We even tried speaking as a parent would to child to help through these agitated states. We were desperate to help him as much as we could. We did this until a veteran hospice worker explained that what we were doing was just making things worse. She said that any stimulation would agitate him and it was best if we would leave him alone. If we visited him, it could only be for a few minutes and then we had to be as quiet as possible.

The doctors kept increasing his dose of the medicine that he took to help control the delusions. Finally, they had to induce a semi-conscious state so that they could control him. By this time, his 250 lbs had wasted down to less than 100. There was not anything recognizable about him any longer. He was not the father that I had known. He was just an empty shell with a beating heart.

It was at this point, that all of us began to pray for his death. We wanted him to suffer no longer. It was soon after this that the hospice workers told us that he only had a few more days to live. We gathered around him to say our last goodbyes. The minister who had been with him almost daily through this time came too. He held a little prayer service around my father. We were all in tears. We were grieving for ourselves but welcomed his impending death for his sake.

As predicted, he died within a few days. We buried him near the end of March. It was just 3 months after his diagnosis.

All of us are still in mourning for my Dad; especially my Mom. We are all grateful for the blessing of my Dad's last few months of life. It gave us the opportunity to tell him and show him how much we loved him. It also helped prepare us for his death.

My family is living day to day and through our faith in God, the healing has begun.