Dear readers, I recently joked with my best friend of 35+ years, that now, in my late middle age, I’ve become obsessed with death. It seems my focus on sharing family stories on Saints and Cigarettes, has pressed me to examine the smoky threads of loss and love.
Prologue
My father would have turned 95 in early February. And, with that milestone, it’s now time to share the story of Nicolas’ passing.
Today, there is a compelling need to share the narrative of my father’s last 72 hours, marked by the vigilant care of hospice nurses, the strength of my family, and the profound words of Mary Oliver that provided solace and insight.
Mary Oliver, in her poem “When Death Comes,” writes –
when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
In the last weeks of my father's life, our home became a sanctuary. It was filled with the presence of loved ones and the comings and goings of hospice nurses.
Their roles were pivotal, shaping the contours of our experience with compassion and professionalism. And, in one instance, a detached aloofness that highlighted the diversity of human responses to the proximity of death.
Among these caregivers, one nurse’s disengagement contrasted sharply with the dedication of others. Her presence underscored the complexity of end-of-life care, where the mechanics of pain management often collide with the nuanced needs of the dying and their families.
As the story of Nicolas' passing unfolded, the arrival of a new hospice nurse in the stormy twilight of my father's life marked a turning point. Her demeanour, characterized by a blend of regal authority and warm compassion, offered hope.
Her arrival was the answer to the prayers of our weary hearts. In her, my mother and I found a guide to help us navigate the final leg of my father’s journey — a journey that Mary Oliver contemplates with a mixture of wonder and acceptance.
“When it's over, I don't want to wonder if I have made my life something particular, and real. I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”
These words, a clarion call to live fully and leave a mark of authenticity and love, echo the legacy left by my father, Nicolas.
His life, though ending was marked by the beauty and the depths of his human connections.
Nicolas had the courage to face the “cottage of darkness” with curiosity and grace.
In part one, the story deepens.
Together, we'll explore the transformative power of compassion, the enduring strength of family bonds, and the luminous trail left by those who have touched our lives, however briefly, in their passage through this world.
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