Lessons from Death 33 Years Later

I promised myself that I would commit to a weekly blog by commenting about my own experience, feelings, and thoughts on the brilliant questions that I post each week. But, last week’s question for me, unexpectedly ended up being a doozy. So apologies for the delay, I have worked through things now and am ready to share.

I posted the question: “Have you ever witnessed someone taking their last breath?”

And, because I’m always “dying to know more”, in the body of the post, I also asked a few follow up questions - just to deepen the conversation: 1. How did it impact you? 2. Was it peaceful or otherwise? 3. What did you learn from it? 4. Did it leave you thinking that you wanted something similar or totally different, and why?  I ask these questions because there is ALWAYS something that we learn from death.  I will answer each of them at the end. But I first will preface them with a life experience.

I started thinking about the deaths that I have experienced and naturally, my hospice work came to mind. Much of my time working as a hospice nurse at the bedside was supporting the dying patient and family. But, there weren’t as many in person deaths as you might think. (I only worked Monday’s and Friday’s and covered vacations as needed.) As those faces, homes, and memories flowed in for me, I found that they each had an important life lesson. But none of them specifically jumped out at me to share.

But then, the visions of my very first death experience came back to me.

At first, I brushed it off, thinking, “There has to be a more impactful death that I can talk about”. I tried to dismiss it.

But the vision of it kept returning. And I realized that this death, in fact, had the biggest impact on me. This passing was traumatic and complicated, including both my patient’s physical condition and my own emotional maturity as a new nurse.

Knowing what I know now about the soul’s path, I realized that I had buried this experience and clearly had not healed from it. Therein began my work this week (and the delay of this post).

I joined the US Navy in 1990 and after graduating from college in 1991 was stationed as a brand new nurse at my first duty station in a Naval Hospital. After a short 2+ month orientation, I went from brand new nurse to charge nurse. The expectation was that I was fully capable to do all things nursing. For the most part I was, but you don’t know what you don’t know until you’re thrown into new situations.

I don’t remember his name, but he was a quiet man with very complex issues. One night shift he unexpectedly had an event that led to a complication, and ultimately he coded in front of me. It was my first code and although I made all of the appropriate calls and the “crash team” came in, I still felt totally ill prepared. I felt like I was in slow motion, or maybe even frozen, completely outside of my body watching the total chaos unfold around us. The team was unable to bring him back. I was eventually left with his body to perform my first post-mortem care, with adrenaline, shock, and the crippling fear of being with my first dead body.

Since then, every time this experience has popped into my mind, I have pushed down the memory out of shame and guilt: I should’ve done better, been calmer, saved him. I shouldn’t have been so scared. I was ashamed thinking that there were corpsman medics out in the world, younger and less experienced than I, who dealt with sudden and unexpected deaths every day. What exactly was my problem? I was a Navy nurse after all.

It is my belief (now) that we each have a specific date and time when our soul is called back from where it came and completely separates from our body. It knows the exact moment it will be born and the moment it will die. Although it is a deeper conversation, simply put, wherever we are, whatever we’re doing at that moment, is where it will end for us.

Fast forward to now.

Looking back, this gentleman’s soul was meant to be called back, in the heart wrenching way it did, on my watch as a new nurse. There was nothing we could have done that would have changed the outcome.

This emotional experience resurfaced this week for a reason. It was time, roughly 33 years later, to find clarity.

I’m not going to lie: I even tried to push it down yet again when I was contemplating the content for this post, because it literally makes my heart ache to relive it. But it was persistent because I was meant to remember the look in his eyes - one of complete and utter fear.  A look that went straight from his eyes to my SOUL. That fear and panic has haunted me up until this week.

What I know to be true: He died alone. It was the middle of the night. It was unexpected. He was scared. He didn’t see it coming- no one did.

Also true: I was a new nurse. I was scared. I was in charge and supposed to instantly dip into my nursing knowledge and lead a situation with which I had no experience. I was ill prepared for death. I didn’t consider anything but his physical needs; not his fear, his comfort, or creating an environment that could have left him feeling supported. Least of all support his soul’s transition.

I found myself in tears driving to yoga this Wednesday night as I connected with this realization. All of the things I couldn’t provide or neglected then, are the things that are the most important to me now. Of course I consider people’s physical needs, but addressing their fears, concerns, and emotional well being is my priority.

By listening.

Or holding a hand.

By being present.

And offering new perspectives.

By helping others to find answers within.

By lending others my lack of fear.

It has come full circle for me.

So here are the answers to my questions in last week’s post:

1. How did witnessing someone taking their last breath impact you? It left me feeling inadequate, guilty, & shameful because I failed. I failed to revive him. I failed to provide him with comfort. I failed to connect with him. Yet today, the impact is deep gratitude. I am so grateful that he chose me, that he looked so deeply into my soul that 33 years later, I could still recall the event as though it was yesterday.

2. Was it peaceful or otherwise? I suspect that it goes without saying, but it was not peaceful. It was traumatic, frightening, and tumultuous. Yet now that I have had time to sit with it to deeply understand, I finally have peace.

3. What did you learn from it? Up until Wednesday, not much. But after a deep dive, many tears, and much needed clarity, I learned that it is my calling to do whatever it takes to help people be prepared to die with dignity and calm surroundings, without fear or panic, and most importantly with love surrounding them. Everyone deserves to experience their passing into the next realm feeling prepared and with peace and love. Most importantly, my lesson was that I have completed a cycle. I have come full circle from 33 years ago when I was filled with fear and now can embrace death as a part of our earthly experience.

4. Did it leave you thinking that you wanted something similar or totally different, and why?  It goes probably without saying that I definitely want something different. Not only for myself, but for others with whom I work with. I never want anyone to feel scared or panicked- I know all deaths are different, but wherever possible, I want to create a sense of peace and acceptance with the dying process.

Lastly, I have finally been able to make peace with this death 33 years later. I have apologized to him (no one deserves to die in fear) and given deep gratitude to him as well (he was placed in my life to teach me SUCH a valuable lesson.) His was by far the most impactful death for me, I just didn’t know it until now.

FootNote:

Whether you have experienced a recent death, or one that was 33+ years ago, there are ways to assist in finding peace and closure through small intentional steps and rituals, as I did just recently with my personal experience. Ritual healing is a beautiful way to address the shock that resides in our physical and emotional bodies. Reframing our past experiences and slowing things down can address unhealed aspects of our past, especially in the death realm. Please reach out if you would like to know more.