Passing with dignity

Jim was able to die in his home, with my grandma by his side

the sun shining, bright green hills off in the distance, and tried to soak it all in for him. This was it; this was his end. At 11:13 a text came through from my grandma, “Please come now.”

I ran to my car and drove the three minutes to Jim’s complex. I walked up his stairs and slowly let myself into his home. I was immediately struck by how calm and warm it felt. I turned the corner to the living room and Jim was sitting in his Eames chair and my grandma was next to him holding his hand with his favorite book on her lap. Classical music was playing.

Jim’s eyes were closed, and he let out occasional agonal breaths. His look said death was imminent. His eyes were sunken in, and his fingers were turning blue. I hugged my grandma and moved to the other side of Jim’s chair where I sat on the floor, my hand on his leg, and we waited.

The raspy breathing noises began to fade, his chest only slightly rising and falling. We each took turns putting our hand on his chest to feel for a heartbeat, unsure if we felt shallow beating or if it was our own hands shaking. He let out one last big breath and that was it. We watched intently, and at 11:42 we decided he was officially gone. It was all so painless and peaceful. It was like watching someone drift off into a deep sleep, an eternal sleep.

My grandma says the last thing he said, besides feeling the medications taking effect, was that he described euphoria. My grandma finds so much comfort in this.

Jim passed at 95. His body was being taken over by metastatic disease, yet he never had to feel those symptoms, he never had to suffer. He was able to die with dignity, in his home, in his favorite chair, with my grandma by his side holding his hand. In a way, this was healing for me.

The last death of a family member I witnessed was my father’s, just weeks after my daughter was born. He was also ravaged by cancer; however, he was deeply suffering in that he was not ready to die. He still had so much life to live.

This experience with Jim was a reminder that not all end-of-life situations are marked with tragedy, and with death can actually come peace.

Jim Kelly with Diane Hie in November, about a month before he passed away. Hie helped Kelly, who was terminally ill, plan his death with the help of the End of Life Options Act.