“Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.”
Mitch Albom

Everyday—
I think of You
I miss You
I Love You

     Is there ever a “good” time to have “THAT” conversation with a loved one?  The question of where do you want to spend eternity?  What are your wishes if your quality of life becomes dependent on machines?   What if you should pass suddenly or during an operation?  Do you want to be resuscitated?  As I sit down to write this blog post, I find myself back at a moment in time that is a milestone in the caring of my parents  – the day I had the end-of-life conversation with them. It’s been several years since that pivotal discussion, yet the memories are still vivid, the emotions raw. Today, I want to share with you the story of that conversation, told from my perspective, with all the compassion, care, and heartfelt sincerity it deserves.
 

     This topic can make anyone squirm with discomfort, regardless of age.   Perhaps when we are young and mortality is distant, it’s not the heavy, glooming reality that awaits us typically in later years.  But when we are older, this subject can instill fear and anxiety of the inevitable – End of Life Decisions.
 

     I remember Mom had such a hard time with this.  Not so much the concept of actually dying, but with some rather disturbing ideas around it.  Now, this was a few years before she really started to decline, but it did make me stop and think about her thought processing and, we realized later, that this was most likely, her beginning of dementia.
 

     One rare day, Dad called me at work to ask if I was coming over for dinner tonight.  “Your Mom’s been talking about some strange things and I think you should talk to her,” he said sadly.   “Ok.  I’ll be over after work.  Whatcha making me for dinner?” I playfully asked to lighten the mood.  “Scottish spaghetti.  Is that ok?”  Bonus time!  “You bet!” I said.  “Now I’ll be there sooner!”  He giggled and we hung up.  He sure got my curiosity going with this call.  So I called my husband, told him about the conversation with Dad and told him I wouldn’t be home for dinner.
 

     That evening, I went to my parents’ house really looking forward to dinner, yet a little apprehensive about Mom’s ‘topics’.  At this point, she was still doing some of the household banking even though I had taken over most of it.  She never liked the idea of consolidating accounts, direct deposit of payroll and social security and the bookkeeping had started to make her anxious.  After the usual loving and excited greeting from both of them, Dad made them each a martini and gave me a beer.  We chatted about light things, the wonderful neighbors they had across the street, Sam and Cheung, the water bill being higher, etc.  Both were very at ease.
 

     Then, Dad, never being one to beat around the bush, said, “Honey, tell Cay what you told me other day.”  I looked at him with the obvious sarcasm of, ‘Gee, let’s get right to it.’   She looked at him as if he had just revealed the most coveted secret to the world.  She didn’t answer right away, seeming to think how she could detract from this subject so I asked her, very calmly, “Mom, what did you tell Dad?”  She frowned and both Dad and I knew she was not happy with this, but we went on.  “Mom, is something bothering you?  Let’s talk about it and figure it out.”  She seemed afraid and embarrased, so I knew this had to be handled slowly and thoroughly.
 

     After about a minute, she said very matter-of-factly, “I don’t want to be buried.  I might still be alive when they put me in there.”  OK-I didn’t expect that, but, yea, makes sense.  Now– I thought to myself, This is the time for The Conversation.
   

     I started by gently telling her she had a valid point. “OK-I can see your concern.  That makes sense to me.  What made you decide on this?”   She grew very uncomfortable and started fidgeting, rustling papers.  I didn’t want to get her agitated but knew this was not going to be an easy conversation.
 

     In her teacher’s voice she pointedly said, “You know, in the old days, they used to cut off the dead person’s head to make sure they really dead and weren’t buried alive.”  Dad looked over at me with pure confusion on his face while she continued to fidget.  Hmmm…this is getting darker, but on we go, I thought.
 

     I took a deep breath and started the conversation – I began by assuring her that we would never allow that to happen – ever.  And now, we can discuss what they both want for the future.  The subject had been broached.  I assured them that this conversation, as difficult as it was, came from my deepest love and respect for them and that all us kids want their wishes to be heard and honored.  We will do what THEY wanted, regardless of how difficult it may be for any of us.

 

     Mom, being a life-long Catholic, was torn between what she wanted and what the Church might or might not allow.   I relayed my belief that this was between her and God and the Church has become more open to different scenarios.  If it would make her feel better, we could talk to her priest and get some reassurance.  Dad, being Protestant, wanted cremation and no frills, flowers or long good-byes.  They differed in their wishes and I assured them that I was determined to honor them.
 

     As the conversation continued, I could see that they became more relaxed and were confident that they could confide their deepest fears and anxieties with me without judgement and we could revisit this topic in the future to ensure that their wishes had not changed.  We touched on their both wanting to stay at home as long as they could as they aged.  Neither wanted medical intervention should it become a choice, but just wanted to pass comfortably and painlessly with the dignity they deserved.  They embraced the opportunity to speak freely about such personal and imminent issues.
 

     By the end of the conversation, they had peace of mind that all us kids would respect and carry out their wishes.   They deeply appreciated the fact that they had final say in their final decisions.  They accepted what was to come on this journey in whatever manner it came knowing that I and my siblings would be there every step of the way.
 

     And, I had realized a very important aspect also – the power of communication.  I realized that no matter how difficult a subject might be, it was imperative that we discuss it openly and honestly while they still could.  Otherwise, their autonomy would be taken away, their choices and wishes would mean nothing.  That would be the worst kind of dishonor to them I could do.  As time has passed, I find myself reflecting on how grateful I am that we always had this mutual trust, the ability to have this discussion and learn so much about this journey.
 

     As I wrap up this blog post, I hope one thing stands out to you – have these conversations with your loved ones.  Give them the opportunity to have their wishes and their voices heard and honored.  Yes, there will be some that you cannot fulfill because of circumstances beyond your control, but those that you can – please do.  Have this conversation with a loving heart and empathetic ear.  You may find that you alleviate  more fears for them than you think.  If you find yourself facing this dire duty, know that you are not alone. You can reach out to me here at ForMyParentsCare.com and get some support, some ideas, some strength.  This is a different journey for everyone but we share a common goal – to help our loved ones travel down this path with compassion, care and dignity.