Expressions of Faith
Death lets us see why we live
By Clarence Liu
I am watching the labored and irregular breathing pattern of the man lying motionless on the bed. It is a clinical sign of impending death. My own breathing begins to mimic his, like one organism playing off the other in sympathy. His wife sits next to me, intent on her partner, who is slowly receding from this life.
The hospital bed dominates the bedroom, which otherwise is littered with the intimate debris of daily life. Through the window the sun shines warmly, apparently indifferent to the drama of life and death in this Waialua home.
As part of a hospice team that assists those who choose to die at home, I have come for this final vigil, feeling like an intruder.
I close my eyes, searching for the right words to name what I am feeling and the privilege I have of bearing witness to this man's dying. "Holy" is what comes to mind. It is almost palpable in the room's stillness, our hushed voices and my sometimes inadvertent kneeling as I lean closer to the dying man.
As a hospice chaplain, I take satisfaction in reclaiming the holiness, or wholeness, of dying in a culture where dying has been cloaked by a medical shroud. In reclaiming dying as part of living, we admit that some things cannot be tinkered with, fixed or cured.
We turn to our spiritual resources to negotiate what we cannot control. Not as an opiate, but as a way to make sense of life.
A Waimanalo mother sits in a house, her eyes as empty as her living room. Her body is eaten with cancer like the resentment she feels toward her family who abandoned her. She only half comprehends she will be dead in months.
At her feet, two small children play, apparently unaware that their world is about to be disrupted. My heart moves out to this woman who will miss their soccer games, senior proms and graduation.
She bares her soul to me, and the anger that consumes her. She was never good enough. Out of this story emerge other stories. Her name is Hope, a name given her by her tutu. We explore the meaning of her name and its blessings for her ordeal.
Slowly it dawns on her. "I never understood why I was named Hope. Tutu said, 'Someday you will.' Now I do," she whispers softly.
Hope's sister Pu'u interjects, the lone member of the family to stand by her. "Tutu told me that my name, Pu'u, was shortened from pu'uhonua," or a place of refuge. The foresight of Tutu envelopes us. We marvel at her legacy.
Holiness means recognizing we are spiritual beings with a higher purpose, and that dying is a gateway. In dying, the disparate pieces of Hope's existence came together, and she discovered a purpose for living and dying.
Clarence Liu is a chaplain with Pacific Health Ministry and oversees bereavement services at Hospice Hawaii.
Expressions of Faith is a column written by pastors, priests, lay workers and other leaders in faith and spirituality. To contribute, e-mail faith@honoluluadvertiser.com or call 525-8036.
