But it is a post about Death and, more importantly, my thoughts about it.
This past Thursday, I attended the memorial service of one of my residents, who passed away unexpectedly on March 15th, the same day I got into Yale. The "coincidence" of timing is very meaningful to me, because my interest in death has everything to do with my desire to attend Divinity school. (More on that below).
The service was held at the resident's family's church, a Black Baptist church in Pasadena. I had the privilege of being able to attend, along with a co-worker and several of the other residents from the senior apartment building at which I work. The service was very joyful, with friends and family proclaiming the fact that this resident was now in a better place and that her earthly trials were over. At the end of the service, the 6 residents who had attended seemed glad to have been able to celebrate their neighbor's life along with her spiritual community. Most of them have their own (differing) faith traditions, and two of the ladies (who are Catholic) kept wondering: "Where is the Body?"
I found it very interesting that, for them, a huge part of gaining closure with a deceased loved one was being able to see the body for one last time. Closure is such an important part of bereavement, and closure looks different for every society, culture, and person. One of the reasons I am going to Divinity school is to explore the possibility of one day becoming a hospice chaplain. (Imagine my excitement when I learned that there is a class at Yale called In the Face of Death: Worship, Music, Art) I think that death is such an important (and inevitable) part of the human experience, and I am pretty passionate about helping make the journey towards death as meaningful as possible. A few years ago, I had the privilege of doing a Music Therapy practicum at Season's Hospice, and that's when I realized that hospice work was something I felt called to and was somehow wired for. (yes, yes, I know better than to put prepositions at the end of a sentence, but I wanted to break that rule here :P) I have since been able to interact with hospice patients in the capacity of a music therapist (including building from scratch a music therapy program at Mission Hospice and volunteering at Sutter Care ), and I love it.
Sometimes people ask: "Doesn't it make you sad to be around dying people so much? Doesn't that affect your mood?" Actually, for me, the sadness is something that compels me to give even more wholeheartedly to the dying and their families. In hospice, death is an almost-certainty, and it's kind of a relief to not spend so much energy thinking or worrying about whether the patient is going to get better. He's not--at least not physically; so, in a way, his future is actually more certain than that of a patient whose prognosis is unclear.
Spiritually and emotionally, there is tremendous potential for growth and even healing. Death is a profound human experience, and living with the reality of death can really show us what--and who--in our lives is most important. A patient approaching death has an opportunity to reflect on her life and to repair relationships that have been neglected or harmed in the past. The role of the hospice chaplain is to provide spiritual care for patients and their families. It is a role for which some individuals have been wired and gifted, and I aim to find out if I will one day have the honor of playing that role.
But even if I never become a hospice chaplain, one thing seems to be clear: I want to devote a good part of my life to bringing a spiritual and musical presence to end-of-life care, and I want to promote preparation and education for end-of-life issues by helping families communicate their thoughts towards death. (We don't know how and when death will come upon us, so we cannot ever fully prepare for it. But it certainly helps to have done at least some thinking and preparing). In my current work with seniors, I have found some of the most meaningful experiences to be death-related: helping residents cope with unexpected deaths of neighbors; organizing a free legal clinic for writing Advance Healthcare Directives; and introducing an immigrant Chinese family to Hospice Care and providing translation for the patient's weekly hospice nursing visits.
My resident who passed away would have turned 74 this April, but she went Home early, perhaps so that she could have a better Celebration than she would have had on earth. "Where is the body?", they ask with concern. The body is gone, but her spirit lives forever!
*****
A couple of resources for anyone interested in learning more:
- Recently, NPR featured The Town Where Everyone Talks About Death, where 96% of the population has an Advance Directive--or something like it.
- The book Final Gifts, which is from the perspective of 2 hospice nurses
- Music Therapy training for End of Life: http://www.hospicemusictherapy.org/resources/
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