The Gift

We've suspected for a while now that my aunt Louise may be suffering from Alzheimer's disease, and this week the diagnosis was confirmed.

I used to think that I would want my loved ones to die quickly, with no warning, as my mother did several years ago. She went to bed one night and never woke up, apparently having had a heart attack during the night. My husband died also from a sudden heart attack. I thought that was probably the kindest way to go for everyone concerned - no suffering or watching someone suffer, no agony over knowing that you were dying or watching your loved one die.

But when we discovered Dad was dying, I realized that the time between a terminal diagnosis and death is a very special gift. Very painful, yes, but it's a last chance to say all the things you want the other person to know that you would not ordinarily tell that person. It's a time to ask all the questions you wanted to know, to listen to all the stories one more time - and maybe to record them - maybe a chance to do the things you and the dying person always meant to and somehow never got around to. You have to be willing, though, to accept this gift without delay - it won't be offered for long.

Now I have the gift again. Thank you, Lord!