You are growing up, young lady. Let me put on my parent's hat & speak to you.Originally Posted by Tiay
I have buried my parent; I have buried my child. I held my kids when they took their first breaths; I held my father when he took his last. Without lapsing into insubstantive mysticism I will say that this seems to complete a sacred circle. There is a mystery at death (Can I say "miracle" here, without being scorned for my faith?) that is no lesser in magnitude, though of a different nature, than the miracle at birth.
I say this because of a trend I observe among both young people and those of my generation. (If this doesn't apply to you, please forgive my presumptiveness but I think this is important to say.) I've heard many folks say they don't want to be present at a death, especially of a parent. This is the same (perhaps) well-intentioned but misguided thinking that excluded parents from being present at a birth, just a couple generations ago. (Fathers were herded off to a well-removed waiting room, and mothers were anesthetized into oblivion for half a day.) Fortunately attitudes changed as my generation came of age and I was told (I believe correctly) that I should be there when my kids were born - even the one who would soon succomb to birth complications.
But nobody told me that I should be present when my father passed over. In fact some seem to have an attitude of "That's very sad, and I love him and will miss him, but I'll wait outside for these few minutes if you don't mind.". So now I encourage you, if at all possible, to be with your significant people in their last days, hours, and minutes. Whether they are conscious or not. Don't worry about the embarassment, sadness, or general yuckiness. Irregardless of schedules, careers, or children (I think they should be there, too). Of course Death doesn't publish his schedule (as you just observed) so this isn't always possible but please take this suggestion to heart.