Pet Loss Library

Continued

Throughout Eddie's illness, we never were into denial about the circumstances. There was no way we could be. Eddie's terminal condition was obvious. His head was so swelled after the surgery (literally and conservatively, twice its normal size). He had a trach, a feeding tube, and I had to give him insulin shots two to three times a day in addition to checking his blood sugar levels. His diabetic condition was brought on by the trauma of the 19-hour surgery. He took upwards of 20 pills a day, all of which had to be crushed and liquified to give to him through his tube. While in the midst of such a tragic situation, what was amazing was the atmosphere in our home. It's almost impossible to put into words, but it was an atmosphere that Eddie wanted and created for all of us. We simply followed his lead. He wanted to die on his own terms, and he very much did just that. He died with such grace, dignity, and love for others. He didn't want to die alone, and he didn't. Eddie had 10 living siblings; both parents; and many friends, nieces, and nephews, and many of them were here at our home (all were in Chattanooga, our hometown) when he died. They came from wherever they had to come from to stay however long they had to stay to support and love Eddie through his final passage. Our home was filled with no less than 10 to 12 people to as many as 20 to 30 at any given time of the day or night during his last days. Anyone who wanted to visit was welcomed, and while we all knew Eddie was dying, we saw him enjoy the company of his loved ones as only someone can do when they know its their last days together. He even wrote a bittersweet note to his mother that said, I love times like this when we're all together, but next time, I won't be here. During that time in our home, we had scattered about air mattresses, blankets, you name it. It was akin to a commune, I suppose. Sound sad and morbid? It would have to me had I not experienced it. Eddie's medications and treatments given to him by his doctors failed him completely, but our circle of love healed his soul, and he was at complete peace with life, love, and death. Eddie embraced and accepted death in a way I've never seen before and will probably never see again. People would come into our home at first hesitantly and with such a heavy heart, and after being here and experiencing the feelings of love, they almost didn't want to leave. They were amazed at what they found. You would hear laughter, Eddie would be sitting very contentedly smiling at his loved ones sharing stupid stories about growing up together (talk about some fish tales :) It was as if God reached down and touched each and every one of us and brought out the best we had in us. Hospice would get so upset with me each time they came, telling me I *had* to clear the house. I always smiled and told them, no, it has to be this way, and I have not one single regret about that decision. We would sit on his bedside, listening to Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Moody Blues, and all his favorites. We would talk about where he was going when he left us and about how wonderful the journey was going to be for him. I often read the Bible out loud to him (especially Romans 8 and Psalms 23). He said in his notes he wanted to guzzle water, and he would smile. His brother talked to him about when he got to Heaven, the birds would come and sit on his shoulder (he *loved* birds). It was as if we were having the biggest farewell party you can imagine. This time, the destination was Paradise.

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