By Susan Ellis of KeyLifeJourneys 　

Suddenly the drama is playing out its final scene. Suddenly you realize it is too late to intervene. All that could, should have been done….it is too late to ponder what if. Everything is beyond your control. When will the end come? Should one stay? Does it now matter? Your energy is there, your thoughts and prayers are there. You’ve left the gentle music playing. The music associated with you. So I went home and fell into an exhausted sleep..

The phone call came at 7.15am on Saturday. The bird has flown. The next day of your life has begun.

I was at Tammy’s apartment less than 30 minutes later. At rest - her limbs still warm and flaccid. I’ve seen death before. In 1999 my partner Sue was taken off life supports. I watched her die. You become detached. You are detached. That is what death in the presence of life is. A threshold you cannot cross until it is your time to do so. That is what is so powerful about these moments. You are aware that a chasm has opened and each of you rests on opposite sides.

At 8am the next PSW came on duty and she with the one who has shared Tammy’s last hours of life work together to lay out her body. The window was opened to keep the room cool. The four women who had been entrusted with Tammy’s care had shown her great respect in life. In death they did not desert her. This provided great support to me.

I made the call to the Palliative Care Centre. A doctor with the death certificate would be with us in two hours. Step one was easy. With certificate in hand I phoned the funeral home. Within 45minutes men in black were there to take Tammy’s body away. How relieved I was that the preceding December three of us had finalized our funeral plans and had pre-paid the services. No decisions to be made now, everything had been set in motion. On Sunday morning I would go to the funeral home to sign papers and get a pile of death certificates. There was to be no funeral. There would be a cremation with scattering later. The celebration of life party would happen later also.

I made some phone calls so that by word of mouth notice of Tammy’s death would reach those who knew her. That night I would send out the email to all those on the mailing list.

In the spring Tammy and I had booked a timeshare condo in Thornbury Ontario for our annual fall colours sojourn. It was to start on the Sunday. I had known for a long time that Tammy would not be making that journey but now it looked like I would get some time away to rest. All I had to do was get the equipment out of the apartment before I left. It was done. There was one final errand - to return of the rented wheelchair. The store closed at 5pm. If I got it there in time all would be in order and I would leave on the trip to Thornbury the next day.

At about 4.20pm on the way to the store I was involved in a traffic accident. My car would have to be towed to the reporting centre and I would have to spend my evening there in the cold impersonal environment instead of being in the warm company of friends. In that moment of the accident I realized that I was succumbing to the stress of grief. Of course I never should have been driving. My mind was not focused. It was a miracle no one was hurt. Suddenly my role of providing palliative care was gone. I was alone watching my car being attached to a tow truck and I knew my tears would have to wait.

In my DVD Aspects of Hope I talk about the grieving process as it hit following my first caregiver role. How would I handle it this time? I would go to Thornbury on Monday. Tammy’s unsold car sat in my driveway. Part of her was going with me.

"To what shall I compare this life of ours? Even before I can say it is like a flash of lightening or a dewdrop, it is no more." Sengai