Waiting in the Hospital Room

The Privilege of A Dignified Death

In life and in death, we belong to God.

This choice of faith does not make the death any easier, but it does remind me that we do not have to face or experience death alone.

This is never more evident to me than when sitting with someone as they breathe their final breath surrounded by loved ones. As our family says our goodbyes and we wait for my mother-in-law to take her final breaths, I am reminded of the privilege that it is to be present in the holy and tender space that death reveals.

As a pastor and a certified member of the sandwich generation, I have been in this place with congregation members and loved ones before. Yes, there has always been plenty of grief and sadness, but there have also been wonderful and often hysterical moments shared with parishioners and family members. The sacredness of these spaces lies not only in the journey to the end of life, but also in the simple and sacramental act of gathering: the bursts of laughter, the flowing tears, the stories shared, the communal experience of life transitions, and as needed, the grip of past wrongs loosed for a moment.

As we sit in this darkened hospital room waiting, holding my mother-in-law’s hand, speaking the names of her family members, and gently brushing her hair out of her eyes; I also look around and see evidence that the family has been here: pizza boxes, charger cables, and unfinished cafeteria food strewn about — it’s messy and and it’s holy.

Yes, these times are difficult, but are also beautiful.

In this moment, I am also reminded that so many, too many, are never given the chance to usher in death with so much care and tenderness. Too many die without the care, comfort, and dignity that hospices or hospitals can provide. War, gun violence, poverty, estrangement, and so much more deny people the opportunity to experience death with the wholeness that life deserves.

Whether with family or congregants, until it is my time, this will not be my last time in this holy space. I don’t seek these spaces, but when they come, I am deeply grateful. I am so grateful that I can only hope to keep fighting for justice in the world so that all of God’s people have the opportunity to live and die with the dignity that I am witnessing this night.

In life and in death, we belong to God . . .