Words of Comfort For the Dying

What do you say to someone who is dying? What words of comfort for the dying can you offer? And especially, how do we offer prayers for the dying?

A parent of friends of mine is currently in our local hospice. It’s sad to see that his deterioration has come so rapidly and particularly in that he has so clearly been fighting for survival. On Saturday, he was unconscious and it was thought that he would soon pass. But on Sunday morning, he was chatting with his wife and hospice staff. This is not unusual.

It’s a common occurrence to see people in the final hours of their lives, moving between a peaceful calm and an anxious state. There is clearly a struggle in their spirit to live. And it’s a fact that the strength of that spirit is undeniably tied to their struggle to remain on this earthly plain. Even though their physical bodies are failing and damaged beyond our ability to repair, the powerful spirit within that individual – that deep instinct to protect our human shell, fights to accept any kind of quality of life that is offered them.

Death is that moment of passing that comes as the spirit acknowledges that these mortal remains are no longer able to sustain its presence. And it is okay to acknowledge this, to accept it as yet another part of our journey. In fact, this is where the presence of family, friends and carers can often help most, with their words of comfort and prayers. The dying will come to accept the new journey that their spirit needs to take.

If you’re a family member, speak of the happy times you’ve shared together, the celebrations you’ve had, the joys you’ve experienced together and never forget to share how much you love them. Acknowledge that this is just an interval in time and that you will all be together again soon.

If you’ve had a spirited relationship with the person who’s dying, acknowledge that you’ve had your ‘ups and downs,’ but reaffirm the power of that love and ask them to forgive any transgression there may have been. Please, do not use this time to be accusatory or stating what your wishes may have been. This time is long past and by your presence and giving of yourself; you are providing the greatest blessing you could ever imagine – for both of you.

One of the greatest gifts you can provide, whether you’re a family member, friend, or professional carer is the gift of touch. Even when words can no longer be spoken, the gift of touch is a potent form of spiritual communication. I often rub the hands or feet of someone who is in transition. There are times when I stroke their hair. These gentle acts are no different than the loving embrace we receive as we come into this world.

And of course, there’s the power of prayer. Never underestimate the strength of that communication. As you offer your supplications, not only does God hear, but the living spiritual being you’re praying for hears as well. Acknowledging that it’s okay to let go, that there is life beyond is a form of blessing. And indeed, you too will be blessed.

 .
Heavenly Father

You have given us so much. Thank You for the gift of life, for all the treasures we received, through the wealth of those who’ve loved us and those whom we’ve loved.

This body You have given is frail and damaged. And now we ask You to grant us peace, as we begin our next journey, to a new life, free of pain and suffering. Ease the sorrow of those we leave behind, knowing that we will always live on in their heart.

Take my hand and lead me now, until that time when we shall meet again, on that day where there is no sunset and no dawn. Amen

.

What Not to Say to Someone Dying

When it's Okay to Let Go

I'm Only Dying!

It's Life Jim, but Not as We Know It!

What's a Good Death?

.

Uncle David

I'm in the cemetery a lot. If it isn't to bury someone it's to visit people I already have. Uncle David is there too. I miss him. Uncle David was the epitome of life in another era. Everything was either black or white, there was little room for much else.

Uncle David spent the majority of his life at the same address. When his parents died he purchased his sister's shares in the house. This way there wouldn't be the need for any changes for him. And when he and Auntie Mary were married they continued on in the same house as well.

There's something comforting about continuity. I remember so vividly when I'd step off a flight at Heathrow and head towards their home. All the hustle and bustle of having travelled many thousands of miles, of having dealt with different cultures, customs, ideologies, smells, and foods; all would quickly drain from my mind as I travelled down the road to their home.

And I'd enter another world. Their world. Nothing changed, nothing new. Two apples, one banana, and an orange would be in the basket on top the small bookshelf in the sitting room. Kitchen cabinets emptied and vigorously scrubbed each week, everything returned to its appropriate place. Always.

And no matter where I had been, no matter what I had done, no matter how exotic the destination, the conversations would be the same. First, weather. After all we are British.

Next, how did I travel? Not the flight mind you, but the road to get to the house. Was it the M4 to the M25 and then the B22whatever, or was it the A123oh my goodness connecting to the Z1 Dead Head B Road and on to the circular counter-clockwise roundabout jugular dual carriageway? And no matter what I'd say, I had to repeat it. Uncle David was so deaf. Bless him.

This walking talking comprehensive map storage facility for the AA was deaf as a door knob. It was a constant irritant for Auntie Mary. But she adored him and when you adore someone you accept these small inconsequential matters, don't you?

I find myself chatting to Uncle David a lot. I know he can't hear me. Gawd knows he can't hear me! But chat away I do. And my conversations are still today just as simple as they always were.

But now I find that I add a few words that I never used when he was alive. I miss you. I love you. I wish you were here.

But then, after all, we are British.

.

Falling In Love At Clapham Junction

So What's a Good Death?

When We're Needed Most

Remember Me

Welcome Home Emily