This post is for September 28th, 2011
It was on this morning two years ago, my family and I had to say our goodbyes. I will never forget that time in our lives. I had taken an early flight home from a dance event. I remember sitting in the airport feeling guilty for WANTING a flight delay or cancelation. I was fearful of death and really had no interest in being present with it. I sat on the plane, my hands trembling with nerves, tears rolling down my face ... I knew it wouldn't be much longer, death was approaching and there was no way around it.
Upon entering my house, I felt a calm wash over me. I was instantly brought into to a moment of divine presence. I quietly walked up to Pete's bed. I was surprised at how different he looked since the days before. He was frail and worn, his skin was yellow and his eyes glassed over. His fingernails were blue and his breathing seemed labored. His face was thin and skeleton like. His head slowly turned to the sound of my voice. "Hi Uncle Pete, It's Jenny" I said. I whispered words of comfort into his ear as if I was speaking to a child who was lost in his own surroundings. He reached up with his left hand in hopes to make contact with mine. I took a seat next to his bedside. I leaned even closer and kissed his forehead. The nurse reminded us that hearing is the last sense to go. With that awesome bit of knowledge, I reminded him how wonderful it must be to be on his way to see his parents. He nodded with everything that was left in him "yes" while letting out a slight moan. He was ready.
I stepped into the kitchen for a bit with the rest of the family. The nurse walked past me and said " There's a whole bunch of spiritual stuff happening in that room over there" as she pointed in Pete's direction. I took a moment and thought about what she said. At that moment, I realized that Pete's death was just as important as his birth, and that it should be made beautiful. I grabbed my purse, took out my travel speakers and began to play soft relaxing spa music. The room immediately began to lighten and Pete seemed to relax a bit. As each second rolled into the next, my thoughts began to get quieter and quieter. With each breath Pete took, I took one with him. For the first time in my life, time had STOPPED and it was wonderful. I had nothing to do but to be present. I stopped thinking and began feeling. I sat with each breath, his hand in mine. While stroking his forehead, a feeling of shock caught me by surprise. For a split second, I was envious. While sitting in stillness with him, I sensed a deep spiritual dimension. I realized that this was going to be Pete's new world. A world of compete being and peace. No body nor mind to worry about anymore. No pain, no hatred, no form and no problems. He was going to heaven and I wanted to go with.
I began to tell him how proud I was of what a wonderful life he had lived. I assured him that it was okay to let go, as everyone he loved was around him seeing him through to the other side. There were a few moments where he seemed anxious. He would pick at the sheets and lift arms as if he was trying to get out from under them and go somewhere. The nurse gave him some more morphine to subside any anxiety or pain. The house grew even quieter than before. Peter became weaker and we became more tired. The nurse moistened his mouth with a swab, as I ran my favorite chap stick across him lips. Comfort is what this entire process was about, and I was going to all I can to make that happen. A new form of compassion came out in me, one I never knew I had.
After seeing how peaceful Peter had become, we all decided to go into the bedroom and camp out. Any bit of sleep we could get was vital at a time like this. After a VERY short cat nap, Mom and I woke up at the same time, sat up in bed and looked at each other with a sense of urgency. We walked out of the bedroom and into Pete's room. The nurse sat next to him, monitoring his every breath. The light was dim and inviting, the room absent of fear. Mom and I quietly placed ourselves near his bed. I whispered to the nurse "How do we know when death is near?" The nurse smiled softly and said " Within 15 mins of the family waking up and walking in" Mom and me let out a small chuckle of disbelief. I questioned her with "really?". The nurse shook her head "yes" and raised her eyebrows with certainty. She continued teaching "watch his breathing pattern. Its now labored in the abdomen, soon it will go to the chest, then his throat, then travel out his mouth. Just watch the rise and fall of his chest." I couldn't help but feel as if a baby was being born. A new spirit being born into a new world. I felt as if our scrapbook room was turned into a delivery room. I could feel his parents on the other side eagerly waiting for his arrival, as we were awaiting his departure. A split waiting room if you can imagine. Sitting there with 2 other women, seemed very appropriate during this transition. A nurturing, motherly energy filling the room.
Soon she informed us to go wake up my Dad and Brother. The time had come to say our last goodbyes. We huddled around Pete for one last time, the "DeLuca Family" as we knew it. With each breath growing more faint than the last, we bowed our heads in silence holding him with all the love in our hearts. At 12:05 am on September 28th, Peter took his last breath. Once the nurse confirmed that the body was absent of life, I took notice to something quite interesting. Pete's body looked completely deflated. Face completely sunken in, his eyes fell deep within the sockets, his nostrils collapsed. It didn't even look like PETE! A body that I had become accustom to know over the past 26 years, had seemed foreign to me as if it were a complete stranger lying in our home. I was finally able to see the body as a shell. Nothing more, nothing less. A carrier of Pete's essence.
The nurse did her final duties and lovingly so. She gave the body it's final bath and clothed it in a designated shirt (chicago cubs, Pete's favorite team) It was amazing to watch a complete stranger demonstrate such compassion and love with another. She took care of him as if he were HER family. An angel sent by Hospice, an angel sent by God.
We waited in the living room for the okay from the nurse to go back in and mourn the body (if desired so) I remember sitting there in a complete sense of peace. We all looked at each other in a zombie like manner, exhausted from the experience. We made a few light hearted statements and spent some time remembering Pete as we knew him. Within a few hours, two men from the cremation services company arrived at our door step. Each was dressed in a black suite and looked very professional. They quietly walked in and greeting us in the living room. They gave us their condolences and assured us that we were in control of when they can take the body. They mentioned how loving the home seemed, informing us how most families keep their dying loved one in the room farthest away from the main areas, with the door shut. They thought it was great to have everything out in the open. Within about 30 mins, the body was gone.
In came two men, out went three....
Used medical equipment and heavy emotion flooded the house. I suggested to Mom, Dad and Christian that they spend the night at my home just a few miles away. They packed an overnight bag and jumped in the car. My husband (Erik) had to stop and get gas. He told me to ride with Mom and Dad. The quicker I could get everyone settled in a bed, the better. The car seemed silent as we drove over the house. Christian sat next to me in the back as Mom sat next to Dad in the front. Silence was soon replaced with a rush of LOVE. "WOW DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT?!?!?!" Dad shouted. Before his statement could even register with me, I was already in awe at what just happened. A gorgeous deer had galloped gracefully across the street in front of us. It had stopped for a moment and looked at us, then continued on it's way. The headlights from the car gave the deer a soft glow, making for a beautiful sight. It was a short distance from the car, so we all got a great view. The words "It's Pete " came rolling from my tongue. Not sure how it was Pete or what part was Pete .... but Pete's spirit was with us in that car. We all felt connected to the moment, knowing it was NOT something of THIS world. I felt Pete was letting us all in on a VERY SMALL part of his new life, wanting to make sure we knew he was at peace and running free. We arrived home convinced that Pete was at peace. I slept through the night ... totally at peace.
A year ago today, I was sitting in a pile of tissues painfully grieving the loss of my Uncle. Life hits and it hits hard. The "Firsts" are always the hardest. My first birthday without a loving birthday card. The first Christmas without hearing his gift from the heart. The first sit down dinner as a family while staring at an empty seat. The first year is the hardest. I came to a revelation last year that I would make my grieving process one to remember. I wrote down all of my favorite memories of Pete which have been combined into the blog you are reading today. I had planned on it taking a year for the healing process to work, but for me, it worked much sooner.
For 210 days I blogged daily about my Uncle. Reflecting DAILY on memories of my loved one, not only helped me through the grieving process, but also helped me to keep him memory alive and on record. Every time I would blog, I was in the moment and one with Pete. I felt him in my writing, I felt him in my daily living, I felt him in the "new norm" of my life. I was getting to know more about my Uncle than I ever thought possible. I knew I had begun healing because I wasn't NEEDING to blog as often. Life was happening and I was living again like I once did with Peter by my side. Through this blogging experience, I have been able to heal on my own time in my own way.
I completely believe that as one door shuts, theres another one even more beautiful opening. A VERY special door opened for me shortly after Pete's passing. My interest in Hospice Care. I recently went through a two month training program to become a certified volunteer for hospice patients and their families. I am honored to give back to this wonderfully compassionate ministry. The entire experience has COMPLETELY enhanced my life, and for that, I thank Uncle Pete. He was my first patient without any of us knowing. He showed me first hand, how to love and to be loved during the dying process.
I have learned a lot on this journey .... a short poem sums it all up ;)
"NO DEATH AT ALL"
By - Jennifer DeLuca
My spirit is light, and absent of time
My body is aging, and crossing the line
I'm alive on the out but dying within
A life lived in mind, insanity and sin
To sin is to miss the BIG target of life
I dread a tough death, with horrible strife
Love is the bullseye, the target in sight
The arrow of stillness will comfort the night
I've learned how to laugh, I've learned how to cry
I've learned how to live, I've learned how to die
I'll live in the now, a moment not missed
My presence alone is the ultimate bliss
In prayer, you may talk, mediation you're still
You will feel from within your spiritual will
When your mind is most quiet, let ego take fall
You'll discover quite quickly, there's no death at all
NOTE TO THE READER -
I thank all of you whom followed this blog, I do hope it shed some light on the grieving process. I look forward to getting this blog published into a Bereavement book. More information to follow.
Living Like A Loved One TRULEY IS a Journey OF Healing! God Bless
-Jennifer DeLuca
