Please, I don’t want to face death alone.
I’d prefer to take a last breath in my home.
I long to die peacefully; in my sleep.
Not a burden; nor someone hard to keep.
Let me say the goodbyes,
Then close my eyes.
And . . . die.
What would be your prayer?
What would be your hope?
What would be your plan? Or lack of plans, because some fickle or faithful part of nearly all of us are wishful thinkers, people that dread the hard conversations or avoid the unsettling subjects or put off until tomorrow—even the next decade—any conversation about the solemn, scary subject of . . .
My parents wanted to grow old and die at home. The mortgage was paid. The landscaping well-tended and mature. The rooms held memories. There was cozy furniture and well-lighted spaces.
They did not die at home. Read More →by