[EDITOR’S NOTE: While I am taking some time off, Huck DeVenzio, Editor of FEN’s Newsletter, has given his permission to reprint on FEN’s blog some salient articles from past issues of the newsletter. They have been lightly edited and/or updated.]
From FEN Newsletter, Fall 2018
Sharing a Final Exit Experience
By Brian Ruder
As Final Exit Network guides, we have many poignant experiences while being with people as they are preparing to die. Each experience is unique and makes us feel fortunate to be able to support people who have enduring suffering and pain and want to manage their last days. We want to share one recent experience.
When we start our journey, we have some medical records and a letter of intent that support the reason for our visit. We have an address and a number of phone conversations as our connection. But once we arrive, we step into a uniquely personal and intimate universe created over a lifetime. Nothing can really be determined before we cross that threshold.
When we arrived we noticed the house was filled with objects both sacred and mundane. Grace sat in her big chair, now her only place, and without any trepidation reported that “today is the day and I want to go home.”
Grace had lived the last 5-10 years of her life in excruciating pain from a number of medical issues including severe osteoporosis that had resulted in a few of her vertebrae cracking while walking. Each day was a difficult struggle. Fortunately, she had two friends who provided moral and physical support through her trials and who were present at the exit. Mary was a friend from the Native American community who Grace introduced to her local Sufi group. They shared many Native American rituals and a deep friendship formed out of love and kindness. The other friend, Ann, was a nurse who had provided physical support, but had also become a deep personal friend, because that is how one related to Grace.
After we completed our formalities, Grace said she wanted to do a little drumming and chanting. Her room had a number of instruments, which she began to play, beginning by breathing into them with the sound of a soft breeze through an open window. She also sang with an unwavering voice that was pure as crystal, a stark contrast to her failing body that could barely hold its own weight It was beautiful and allowed us all to feel the energy build in the room.
After the drumming, Grace seated herself in her favorite chair with all of us sitting closely by. She then said the last thing she wanted to do was sing a song, which started out, “All I ask of you is to remember me as loving you.” She sang the entire song with a smile on her face so that we could all share her love and know she was prepared to die. She died peacefully in the next 15 minutes.
What a gift to be witness to such peace and equanimity that was rooted in a greater sense of community and spirit, with the dignity and courage to approach death with ceremony and confidence, heartfelt, natural, and relaxed. It made us realize how important what we do is and how fortunate we are to be able to do it.
The Gift of Release
By A Friend
As I peered through the kitchen door I could see her sitting in her favorite chair in the family room. As I entered, gradually she attempted to stand. I told her to sit still; I would come to her.
“No, I want to get a real hug from you.”
This should have been telling. And if not, then the length and completeness of the hug should have alerted me to a change in today’s schedule. I had thought that I was coming for a demonstration. It was just two days ago that she let me know that a friend of mine was also going to be there. I had encouraged her to meet with my Ayer Vedic practitioner and Sun-Moon Dancer for advice with nutritional supports and potential pain reduction plan. When they met, it seemed that they had been connected in some other time. They continued to see each other, more socially than professionally, over the past year.
She moved out of the hug and said, “I don’t think this is going to be a demonstration. I woke up this morning, in extreme pain and feeling miserable. I’m done. I’m ready. You don’t have to stay if you are uncomfortable.”
I was the one who had found the organization [FEN], when my friend seemed so close to crossing over 16 months prior. She was in so much pain and even the simplest self-care seemed beyond her. This had been such a difficult time for someone who had always been active and involved in life. She was too ill to attend meetings, so I went to collect information, gather materials, and explain life-completion elements. I feared that she would lose so much of her abilities that she would be beyond the point of helping herself.
She had had some reprieve in function and mobility, yet had endured chronic pain from five, to seven, to nine vertebrae that continued to fracture and collapse. Her greatest fear was becoming totally incapacitated and at the mercy of others.
She and I talked about the confusion she was feeling with improved mobility, despite no significant change in her quality of life or her pain level. She spoke to me about feeling her connection with Spirit slipping away, so while I visited, we did more ceremony, drumming, and chanting. This would be uplifting at the moment, but as with many individuals with neurophysiological issues, it would wear her out for a number of days, and with fatigue and lack of distraction, the pain was most often unbearable.
So here we were and the time had come for her leaving. The final dance began, as the two of us helped her into her living room, which had become her ceremony room in the last few months. The Senior Guide and his assistant arrived and were greeted and ushered into the space. Introductions and some initial instructions were exchanged. These two individuals readily became part of our ceremonial circle, joining ours in this most auspicious occasion. My friend spoke of memories and elements completed. She played her drum and chanted the Sound Beings into this sacred space. Then she sang a Sufi song, asking us to remember her as loving us. Tears flowed as judgment was released and all that remained was Love. It all seemed so easy, so gentle, and so final. She was at last at peace.
We were grateful for the work and wisdom of Final Exit Network.
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Brian Ruder is retired from the corporate world and is a Senior Exit Guide and Vice-President of the Board of the Final Exit Network.
