when a family member is nearing death
spend time with your loved ones
I wrote this piece earlier today more or less in a single sitting. I was unsure about publishing it but ultimately decided to because I don’t want others to face similar regrets. My wish is that if this piece affects you, that you keep in regular contact with your loved ones. Love, Valerie.
My grandpa is dying soon. Over the summer, his lung collapsed, and we thought he was nearing death. But he was determined to live because he didn’t want to leave my mom, even though he couldn’t walk, even though he had to eat through a tube. So he made it through.
Recently, he’s been getting pneumonia over and over again, and the antibiotics that worked over the summer no longer work. My sister told me about this on Friday night. She asked me to call my mom, who hasn’t been feeling well. I think my mom hasn’t told me about my grandpa because she thinks I’m busy with my job, and I wish she had kept me in the loop.
Last night I sent my mom a video of myself, so that she could show it to my grandpa. “谢谢你在我小的时候照顾我。我觉得你很强，在医院里呆这么久。谢谢你照顾妈妈和妹妹。” Thank you for taking care of me when I was young. I think you’re incredibly strong for being in the hospital for so long. Thank you for taking care of my mother and my sisters.
This morning I call my mom, who is at the hospital. My grandpa says a few sentences to me in Mandarin, but I can’t understand what he was saying. His voice is too soft, as he’s gotten much weaker in the past few months. “He’s wishing you good health,” my mom says. “Good health and a good career and a good life.” She starts tearing up, and I do too.
“It’s going to be alright. Okay, Valerie? It’s going to be alright,” my mom tells me. I let her try to comfort me. She needs it. “He told me a few days ago that he is happy getting to see you and your sisters grow up.”
At some point in the call, my mom breaks down into tears and tells me that her only regret is not visiting my grandpa more often a few years ago, when he could still walk. She regrets being so impatient with him back then.
“Have you told him these things?” I ask.
“I’ve told him that I regret not visiting him more often. He’s already forgotten about that. He only remembers now, when I visit him every day.”
“You should tell him that you regret being impatient with him,” I say. I only know how to tell her what to do. It’s my only way of comforting her. “I bet it would help both him and you if it did.”
I also ask my mom to tell my grandpa that I regret not visiting him over the years. My mom tells me that she did not take me to visit him because she always thought there would be much more time in the future.
I know these are age old problems, always assuming there will be more time with your relatives and then not getting them, but it hurts when you realize that that’s become your own life. I have a bag of regrets that I will always carry with me.
I wish I had known my grandpa better across the years, when I had the chance. I wish I had asked more to see him. Even if I didn’t do much with him other than tell him about my studies, even if I didn’t say anything at all. Then at the very least he would’ve actually gotten to see my grow up. Hearing my mom talk about him now, I know that he’s a person with a rich, storied life. I wish I had been able to see it for myself.
This week, I’ll call my mom at the hospital every day, and I will get to see my grandpa for a bit. I will try to hold whatever conversation I can with him. It will keep me from feeling regret that I didn’t connect with him as he was dying, and yet I’ll also be painfully aware that I wish I had done more.
Hey Valerie, thanks for this post.
My grand-dad passed last night at his nursing home. Seeing this in my inbox this afternoon was both weird and comforting, especially as I subscribed to your newsletter this morning.
I‘ll chalk it up to the weird things that happen in life.
Time is always so short. Take care.
The end of life is painful to endure and to witness, especially when it is complicated by dementia. The physical deterioration, the difficulty making a connection with the loved ones, the loss of dignity as the person who suffers loses the ability to care for themselves and needs help with bathing and feeding and continence.
Osler said pneumonia was “the old man’s friend”. In the pre-antibiotic era, the mortality for pneumonia Im the elderly exceeded 70%.
It’s hard to communicate dignity to people going through that. So do what you can. Be present when you can. Participate in caregiving in whatever way you can. Engage in rituals, so that there is a sense that the actions of a lifetime are carrying on even as they themselves are passing.
And if you can, try to help the people who are still healthy build a “dignity document”. An opportunity for them to remember their lives on their own terms and to their advantage, so that they can feel certain That their legacy remains secure.