Gone Fishing
When love is allowed to be expressed uninhibited, it continues to radiate, creating legacies for generations to come.
Two elements seem key to healing from loss: the first is to stay intimate with grief, and the second is to allow the people we love to witness our sorrow. The witnessing nurtures the love that is at the heart of grief. When love is allowed to be expressed uninhibited, it continues to radiate, creating legacies for generations to come.
Legacy building starts when we learn how to integrate our lives with those who are leaving. Given that I gravitate toward the tactile arts, building a tangible legacy practice is my favorite way to begin.
To be sure, creating tangible legacies is not for everyone. It is essential to anticipate that some things may be troubling. So we must support loved ones as well as ourselves through these moments. By doing so, the process of healing expands to include acts of creating, contributing and gifting. This powerful and widely accessible model of supporting grief and healing does not require artistic know-how or skills of any kind. It does require time and a few inexpensive materials. Add in a bit of curiosity with some tender-loving empathy sprinkled with a dash of playfulness, and "pouf" you have the recipe for legacy magic in the making.
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The first day I meet Hector Lopez is within days of his final breath. His hands, kneecaps and feet are cool with hints of a bluish tint shading his naturally bronzed skin. Hector is no longer spontaneously opening his eyes, and his mouth is already perpetually in the shape of a donut. His breaths are sparse with an occasional deep one followed by several rapid and increasingly shallow breaths until it seems he holds his breath altogether. The pause, sometimes lasting close to 30 seconds, feels just long enough to make his family wonder if they've witnessed his final exhale.
Hector's family is large, consisting of two young adult children, several younger grandchildren, nieces and nephews, as well as aunts and uncles, three brothers and a cousin. The hospital room is packed to the edges, literally. Everyone is around the periphery. No one is within arm's reach of Hector.
I greet the family and approach Hector and introduce myself even though I don’t expect him to answer. I perform my usual physical exam in front of them as a way to demonstrate it is okay to talk with and touch Hector. It is also an easy way to educate the family on the expected changes in Hector's body that they are already seeing, as well as those we look for to help us determine if he is uncomfortable even when he is unable to tell us directly.
As I listen to Hector's heart and lungs with my stethoscope, I explain, "This pattern of breathing you are seeing is very common at the end of life. It is not the result of any medications. Rather, it is the result of Hector's brain forgetting how to breathe." While looking at the color of Hector's skin and deliberately feeling the temperature of his hands, kneecaps, legs and feet, I explain, "It is very common for people's body temperature to fluctuate near the end of life, not because of any infection, but again, because the brain is forgetting how to regulate body temperature."
I ask them what they think Hector would wish to be doing if he were well and not in the hospital undergoing my exam. This question immediately changes the dynamic in the room. Hector's family becomes the rightful experts, and their response breathes a bit of levity into the air as they sing out in unison, "He'd be fishing!"
My marching orders are set. That night, I make my way to the nearest toy store….
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Yes, it’s true…I am leaving you hanging….
Wondering why I needed to go to the nearest toy store? Leave a comment! I’d love to hear your answers. I’ll send the remainder of the story to everyone who answeres correctly . Don’t like guessing games? Discover another way to read the ending HERE.