One of the synchronicities of life is that when my Dad’s cancer returned my sometimes boss, Wendy Macnaughton, was Artist in Residence at the Zen Hospice Project.
We talked in her studio one afternoon and she mentioned that in the hospice center volunteer training program there’s a set of phrases that might be helpful to me. She could only remember a few of them, so I got home and googled. What I found was a handful of blog posts based off the idea of Hoʻoponopono,
“an ancient Hawaiian practice of reconciliation and forgiveness.”
Included in this idea is a list of phrases. Things to say to a dying person: Thank you. I love you. I’ll never forget. I’m sorry. Forgive me. I accidentally wrote forgive me as “I forgive you” but I’m glad to have had both.
I put those words on a post-it and stuck it to my computer. I didn’t know I’d need them so soon.
My Dad, who was diagnosed with the rare Triple Hit Lymphoma in September, was not doing well. His March bone marrow transplant failed after only a month. M.D. Anderson put him in a clinical trail immediately and it seemed to be working… except that it wasn’t. Something wasn’t right.
As April became May he was readmitted the hospital while the doctors took a week to figure out what was happening inside him. They told him on a Friday that the drug trial wasn’t working and there were nothing else they could do to stop the lymphoma. He moved to the palliative care floor.
My Dad’s decline was swift, and by the time I arrived several days later, the opportunity for conversation was over. I could talk to him, and he could hear me, but that was it.
After the shock wore off, I said these 6 phrases over and over. They served as a “So your Dad is dying” mad libs. They helped me share my heart and feel like I had something to say even when everything was so screwed up and surreal that I could barely think straight. I will always be grateful that I had them. My sisters, mom, and uncle sat with him for a week and talked to him. We listened to music. We shared memories. He was gone a week after he learned he was dying.
I love you. Thank you. And as memories came up, I’d share them and talk about how special those times were to me. I’ll always remember. Thank you. Thank you for being my Dad. I love you. I’m sorry, Dad. Please forgive me. I forgive you.
It’s strange that the most basic common phrases are something that I needed to be reminded of when I was in the midst of crisis, when my brain and heart and whole person felt scrambled.
One of the blog posts (which I now cannot find, dang) mentioned that these phrases aren’t just good to say when someone is dying, but also things that we should all say more of in our day-to-day lives. I agree.
So when I got home, after his death and the funeral, in the midst of “normal” life, I still had them swirling around my head. With each phrase rotating and settling in from the repetition, I made something to get the thoughts out of my head and put through my hands on to paper. I made these images. I don’t know what they are but I had to do it and now they’re for you.
And I hope they are helpful to you one day, not too soon, as they were helpful to me. And don’t forget.
Original Published at http://aprilvwalters.com/blog/14156564/what-to-say-to-death
Author Bio: April V. Walters
I am a practicing illustrator and artist. You’ll find my work across the web, like in the Chefs+Tech Newsletter, and in print, on the pages of Edible San Francisco and Weekend Almanac. But really? I do donuts. A lot of them. (Some might call it an obsession.) My magnum opus is the Donuts of the Bay Area calendar, 2014 and 2015.
Kindness Blog 
So lovely. So beautiful. Thank you so much!
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Thank you, April. Tears of happiness as well as sadness in my eyes. A beautiful gift you’ve given all of us. Bless you.
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This is truly amazing and somewhat spooky for me: I said almost ALL of these things to my father when he was dying of liver cancer, and couldn’t talk. He could only listen. The one thing I didn’t say was, “I’ll Always Remember.” Instead, I simply talke about my memories of our life together when I was young and had my Dad around. So, I guess that counts as “I’ll Always Remember.”
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My brother passed away last August and I do so wish I had these with me at that time. As we sat in his room, listening to his assisted breathing, we talked of memories, our lives, things we hoped would take his mind away from what was happening.
I could not say out loud, ‘I love you’. Not something my family does. We do not show our emotions in public if at all possible. So instead I mentally sent him my ‘I love you’s’.
I do believe he heard them.
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Today is the eleventh year of my father’s passing from cancer also. The last eight weeks of his life he, too, was unable to communicate. Thank you for this posting. As I know he sits beside me it does not diminish the physical pain.
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Beautiful…thank you!
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Reblogged this on The Sick and the Dating and commented:
Some fantastic points to remember and carry with you, even if you think you don’t need them immediately. Death is a part of the life cycle. If you are lucky enough to be able to have a conversation before that option is taken out of your hands, use that time wisely.
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Yes so beautiful indeed
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Beautiful – Thanks
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I know exactly where you’re coming from with this post…..My Dad passed away when I was 12,000 miles away, and there is so much I wish I had the opportunity to say to him. Fortunately, I’m a great believer that; Life does go on……In Spirit, and our loved ones will always be with us.
Your Dad can still hear you, so keeping talking to him.
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Reblogged this on Kindness Blog.
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