When is it time to say goodbye?
June 6, 2003 | 12:00am
"Do not stand by my grave and weep, I am not there I do not sleep."
Life is a fragile and precious thing. This is something that’s been said over and over again, used in countless books and movies, and printed on greeting cards everywhere. It’s something I’ve always been told and something I’ve always believed in. Appropriately, it is also something that has been constantly reaffirmed these past few weeks.
People say that death is something that doesn’t become real to you until it happens to someone you know, or worse, to someone you love. Many people, including myself, would normally respond in the negative and claim that the prospect of death is as real to them as it is to someone sitting by the bedside of a loved one in the hospital. I’ve recently come to realize though that the saying is true and that death – real as the concept may be – is still taboo until it stares you right in the face.
I’ve read numerous articles and books about death. In high school it was the topic of several of the final English papers we had to submit and I dealt with more than half of my classmates going through their interpretations of it; ranging from melancholy to joyous to religious. I didn’t really formulate any opinion then but over the years death has ceased to be that all consuming and frightening end and has become just a part of the natural process of life. Brave words I admit and still, despite that "acceptance" I’ve never had to deal with the thought of someone close to me dying. The selfish part of me has to admit that I’m grateful.
It’s really only been in the last five years that I’ve either visited someone sick or gone to a funeral and fully realized the significance. A couple of years ago, the son of a close family friend perished in a motorcycle accident and I remember praying over the coffin of someone even younger than me and thinking that this wasn’t something that only happened to the old. A while back, an esteemed member of The STAR Lifestyle staff passed away as well and I recall reading several articles afterwards written by his friends and colleagues who couldn’t believe he was really gone.
We say we know that death is a part of life but no matter how prepared we think we are it really does come like "a thief in the night..." and we’re always at a loss afterwards. After all, how do you say goodbye to someone you love? And how do you really deal with the prospect of being left with only your memories?
About a month ago my aunt suffered from a massive heart attack and was rushed to the intensive care unit of Makati Medical Center. It came as a shock to everyone and even now it still seems surreal. She’s only 44 after all and is one of the most stress-free people I know. It’s always a joy to talk to her because I can’t ever recall seeing her mad, sad, worried, or harassed. She’s always just happy. Our talks will range from accessories to work to why I still don’t have a boyfriend (her favorite question). To me she’s always the embodiment of "happy-go-lucky," with a smile on her face and a laugh that’s infectious. She’s extremely generous and kind and at family gatherings will usually sit at the "young ones’" table and laugh and joke with us.
I went to the hospital the day after she was checked in and I’ll never forget how I felt when I saw her. It was Mother’s Day and I ached for her family. Just looking at my uncle broke my heart and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it felt like to sit at the bedside of your life partner who might very well be facing death. She wasn’t breathing on her own and was hooked up to more machines than I could count. When one of my cousins, Mikey, wept on my shoulder the empathetic crier in me surfaced and my whole idea of "being strong for them" went out the window as the floodgates just broke. I couldn’t even understand all of the reasons I was crying. I felt sorrow for my aunt but more than that I felt sorrow for her family. I don’t think death is the worst feeling, I think the worst feeling is sitting by someone’s side not knowing whether or not they’re going to live or die.
When is it the right time to say goodbye? How long should we hold on and when is it time to let go? These were the questions going through my mind as I sat with my family and gazed at the other families in ICU. It’s only natural of us to want to hope for the best and pray that our hospitalized loved ones will suddenly awaken as if from a bad dream and be okay but sadly, more often that not, this isn’t going to be the case.
When does "life" end and "life" supported merely by medical equipment begin? It’s a taboo question and I don’t think there is really a right answer. The agonizing dilemma of when it’s time to forego artificial means of life and let God take over is something that cannot be easily answered. Medicine has come a long way since the dark ages and we are now capable of saving the lives of people who would never have conceivably made it before but has this blinded us to when it’s really just someone’s time?
It’s probably the hardest decision anyone would ever have to make and right now, I don’t think I’d have the strength to let go. I’m the type of person who will continuously hope against impossible odds for a miracle. But as I sat and watched my beloved aunt’s tortured breathing I also realized that perhaps my resolve to not let go might be more for my sake than for hers. They say that sometimes people in comatose states hold on because their loved ones cannot let them go. It’s easy to believe it’s just as sad for them to leave us as it is for us to lose them. Maybe in the end the only final gift we can give them is to let them go with love. As I’ve read before, our mourning is really for us and not for our dearly departed. After all, they’ve finished the proverbial race and are heading for a happier eternal existence while we are still running it.
I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know what’s going to happen. I hope and pray as hard as anyone that my aunt will just sit up, give us that trademark smile, and ask why we’re all so serious but I don’t know if this will ever happen. What I do know is that whatever choice her family makes for her will be the right one. No one else can make it but them and assuredly their decisions will be guided by encompassing love and the desire to do what’s best for her. To answer my own question I don’t think you’ll ever know when the right time to say goodbye is until you have to personally ask it of yourself as you sit by the bedside of an ailing lover, parent, child, sibling, or friend. As logic and intellect fail to answer your questions I believe that something in your heart will let you know when it is time to let them go. After all, no one we love is ever really gone from us, it’s cliché but true, a part of them will always be in our hearts.
Life is a fragile and precious thing. This is something that’s been said over and over again, used in countless books and movies, and printed on greeting cards everywhere. It’s something I’ve always been told and something I’ve always believed in. Appropriately, it is also something that has been constantly reaffirmed these past few weeks.
People say that death is something that doesn’t become real to you until it happens to someone you know, or worse, to someone you love. Many people, including myself, would normally respond in the negative and claim that the prospect of death is as real to them as it is to someone sitting by the bedside of a loved one in the hospital. I’ve recently come to realize though that the saying is true and that death – real as the concept may be – is still taboo until it stares you right in the face.
I’ve read numerous articles and books about death. In high school it was the topic of several of the final English papers we had to submit and I dealt with more than half of my classmates going through their interpretations of it; ranging from melancholy to joyous to religious. I didn’t really formulate any opinion then but over the years death has ceased to be that all consuming and frightening end and has become just a part of the natural process of life. Brave words I admit and still, despite that "acceptance" I’ve never had to deal with the thought of someone close to me dying. The selfish part of me has to admit that I’m grateful.
It’s really only been in the last five years that I’ve either visited someone sick or gone to a funeral and fully realized the significance. A couple of years ago, the son of a close family friend perished in a motorcycle accident and I remember praying over the coffin of someone even younger than me and thinking that this wasn’t something that only happened to the old. A while back, an esteemed member of The STAR Lifestyle staff passed away as well and I recall reading several articles afterwards written by his friends and colleagues who couldn’t believe he was really gone.
We say we know that death is a part of life but no matter how prepared we think we are it really does come like "a thief in the night..." and we’re always at a loss afterwards. After all, how do you say goodbye to someone you love? And how do you really deal with the prospect of being left with only your memories?
About a month ago my aunt suffered from a massive heart attack and was rushed to the intensive care unit of Makati Medical Center. It came as a shock to everyone and even now it still seems surreal. She’s only 44 after all and is one of the most stress-free people I know. It’s always a joy to talk to her because I can’t ever recall seeing her mad, sad, worried, or harassed. She’s always just happy. Our talks will range from accessories to work to why I still don’t have a boyfriend (her favorite question). To me she’s always the embodiment of "happy-go-lucky," with a smile on her face and a laugh that’s infectious. She’s extremely generous and kind and at family gatherings will usually sit at the "young ones’" table and laugh and joke with us.
I went to the hospital the day after she was checked in and I’ll never forget how I felt when I saw her. It was Mother’s Day and I ached for her family. Just looking at my uncle broke my heart and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it felt like to sit at the bedside of your life partner who might very well be facing death. She wasn’t breathing on her own and was hooked up to more machines than I could count. When one of my cousins, Mikey, wept on my shoulder the empathetic crier in me surfaced and my whole idea of "being strong for them" went out the window as the floodgates just broke. I couldn’t even understand all of the reasons I was crying. I felt sorrow for my aunt but more than that I felt sorrow for her family. I don’t think death is the worst feeling, I think the worst feeling is sitting by someone’s side not knowing whether or not they’re going to live or die.
When is it the right time to say goodbye? How long should we hold on and when is it time to let go? These were the questions going through my mind as I sat with my family and gazed at the other families in ICU. It’s only natural of us to want to hope for the best and pray that our hospitalized loved ones will suddenly awaken as if from a bad dream and be okay but sadly, more often that not, this isn’t going to be the case.
When does "life" end and "life" supported merely by medical equipment begin? It’s a taboo question and I don’t think there is really a right answer. The agonizing dilemma of when it’s time to forego artificial means of life and let God take over is something that cannot be easily answered. Medicine has come a long way since the dark ages and we are now capable of saving the lives of people who would never have conceivably made it before but has this blinded us to when it’s really just someone’s time?
It’s probably the hardest decision anyone would ever have to make and right now, I don’t think I’d have the strength to let go. I’m the type of person who will continuously hope against impossible odds for a miracle. But as I sat and watched my beloved aunt’s tortured breathing I also realized that perhaps my resolve to not let go might be more for my sake than for hers. They say that sometimes people in comatose states hold on because their loved ones cannot let them go. It’s easy to believe it’s just as sad for them to leave us as it is for us to lose them. Maybe in the end the only final gift we can give them is to let them go with love. As I’ve read before, our mourning is really for us and not for our dearly departed. After all, they’ve finished the proverbial race and are heading for a happier eternal existence while we are still running it.
I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know what’s going to happen. I hope and pray as hard as anyone that my aunt will just sit up, give us that trademark smile, and ask why we’re all so serious but I don’t know if this will ever happen. What I do know is that whatever choice her family makes for her will be the right one. No one else can make it but them and assuredly their decisions will be guided by encompassing love and the desire to do what’s best for her. To answer my own question I don’t think you’ll ever know when the right time to say goodbye is until you have to personally ask it of yourself as you sit by the bedside of an ailing lover, parent, child, sibling, or friend. As logic and intellect fail to answer your questions I believe that something in your heart will let you know when it is time to let them go. After all, no one we love is ever really gone from us, it’s cliché but true, a part of them will always be in our hearts.
BrandSpace Articles
<
>
