A friend recently lost her dad, and she said, “I was able to spend 3 1/2 weeks 24/7 with Dad and Mom before he passed away at home. Precious memories.”

I replied, “I’m so glad you could be with him. I don’t know if many people realize how comforting and settling it is to have that experience and memory.”

Of course, her comments made me think of loved ones I’ve lost in the past, and I do believe being there for the last weeks, days, or hours, disturbing as it can be, is one of the healthiest things we can do for our mental health.

When we are lucky and blessed enough to have the choice of being present when a loved one passes, I highly recommend it. It is powerful and unforgettable to hold their hand, kiss their cheek, say whatever is left to say, and watch them pass into peace. For me, death wrapped with love, memories, thankfulness, and compassion is a beautiful picture that never leaves or changes. I can count on it to be there in my lowest moments.

When my dad died, I was not there. I was driving while returning from testifying for a client in another state. My oldest sister called me, and held the phone to his ear while I told him how wonderful heaven would be and how much I loved him. He passed moments after the call. When I returned to Sterling and stopped at the mortuary, I sat on the front steps with my youngest sister. She pointed to the door and said, “Go see him.”

I said “I don’t want to—I saw him every day he was in the nursing home.”

She said, “No, you have to go!”

I went in, and he was dressed in his favorite plaid shirt and lying on a tall table. It was just me, him, and a soft light. He looked so happy and comfortable—probably more than I had seen him in five years. I will be forever grateful for my sister’s overly strong encouragement. Even seventeen years later, I smile when I see him in my mind and feel the love behind my eyes.

I know many don’t get the opportunity to be there, but you can imagine. Close your eyes and picture your loved one dressed in their favorite clothes, loving you as they sleep while leaving their pain behind.

Most people say, “I just want to die in my sleep.” The truth is, I think most of us do; whether it’s an accident, intentional, illness, or old age, there must be a moment of fading—just like drifting off to sleep.

I like that sweet thought—it brings me peace too.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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