Listening

I’ve been working with a hospice friend since April, visiting weekly and supporting the young woman and her family as they face her terminal diagnosis. This week, my friend was notified that she’s likely to “graduate” from hospice soon.

This has been one of the hardest experiences of truly listening that I have been called to as a death companion. This beautiful young mother, vivacious and vibrant, is now facing a fear that we didn’t anticipate. My friend has done all the work that we death workers champion: she has bravely accepted her prognosis, bluntly undertaken her advanced care planning, recorded her vigil and body disposition wishes and completed her legacy projects. But somehow we didn’t think to discuss what would happen if she didn’t die as quickly as expected.

Hospice support is a saving grace for so many. The supplemental in-home care and nursing support is depended upon. My friend may not be declining quickly enough to meet enrollment requirements but she is certainly not recovering. She is still left bedridden with chronic and excruciating pain but now, the future is less foreseeable.

This listening I am called to do in this space is heartbreaking in a different way. “How long will I suffer like this?” “Why is it taking so long for me to die?” “I can’t go on like this for years.” “What am I supposed to learn from this?”.

Amy Wright Glenn’s quote has been running circles through my head as I sit beside my friend and listen. What does love look like here? Is it offering sympathy? Is it placating? Is it condolences? What I’m learning is that listening as an act of love, as Glenn suggests, requires the hardest thing of all for me to give: spaciousness for my friend to feel all that she feels without me trying to make her feel better. Allowing her to confide without judgement, without trying to fix or help, without trying to soothe or comfort. Showing up, unflinching, for the truth of her heart and honoring it for what it is - no matter how brutal or messy or hard it is…a perfect lesson in holding space.