A Soft Exit
- By D.E. BENTLEY –
Everyone loves a soft exit. You know the type of departure where there is a quiet peaceful transition from here, to there. I often thought of this in relation to parties, nice to not have to get into too many of those last-minute conversations about frivolities when you are trying to find the exit. Nicer to simply slip away. I had not, until recently, given much thought to the idea of a soft exit as it relates to end of life departures. Our family’s end of life experience with Hospeace House, in Naples, NY, changed that. In late October, on her birthday, we transferred our mother, Leona J. Gardner Bentley to Hospeace House. The home where she had been sent by the hospital—following an unexpected terminal diagnosis—had over-burdened, albeit caring, workers. We knew immediately it was not where we wanted our mother to die.
For those not familiar with hospice care, it offers people who have decided that comfort care—void of any medical intervention beyond pain control and basic care of body and mind—with no end of life heroics is how they want to die. Our mother was adamant that this was her choice. There are networks of hospice organizations, staffed by a network of employees and an even larger network of volunteers, across New York State. These organizations—the one that oversaw mom’s care was the Ontario-Yates Hospice—offer end of life services in people’s homes, in nursing facilities, and in residential homes like Hospeace House.
I had heard of Hospeace House, but my perceptions, although accurate in some ways, did not begin to touch on the experience of joining the family of caregivers who make this type of “soft exit” possible. When I arrived at the home, the ambulance had just arrived. I greeted my mother and followed the ambulance attendants carrying her inside.
The home is designed such that there are large deck areas outside each of the two resident rooms, which allow for easy entrance for transported patients. These also provide residents the sights, sounds, smells and feel of the outside. “Just the wind on her face or the smell of a familiar scent can offer comfort,” one of the many volunteers offered, as they settled mom in. It was her birthday, and I could not have imagined a better birthday present.
Our mother’s stay at Hospeace House was short—as might be expected—but offered all of us a chance to say good-bye. Her sister, our Aunt Emily, and her husband, Dave, were able to stay overnight in the guest area. My sisters from Ithaca, Trumansburg and New Hampshire were able to visit, as were our cousins, from out of town. There are walking trails and gardens outside, for quiet contemplation. More than a house, Hospeace House is truly a home.
I was the closest geographically to the residence and tried to sit bedside with mom most days during her short stay, especially when it was evident that death was imminent. When I was not there, the many dedicated staff and volunteers kept watch, faithful and comforting guardians.
Our mother was an avid reader throughout her life. The very rapid progression of her cancer took this away in a matter of days. Mostly she drifted further and further from the shore of lucidity. I brought in Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt, and began reading it aloud—as much to help me pass the time as to offer something loved to comfort my mother. For those not familiar with this young adult fiction story, it is about a young girl named Winnie who encounters and becomes friends with the Tucks—who have inadvertently (and regretfully) taken drinks from a spring that has “gifted” them eternal life. It seemed an appropriate title. Before beginning, I said, “This is a short book mom; let’s see if we can get through it.” After that first read, I set the book down on the bedside table. I returned the next day, and the next, and read a bit more each day. On each occasion, I picked up where someone else had left off, as in my absence others read aloud as well. On the final night, as I turned the last page, a deep breath told me that this would be the final visit. As I finished the last sentence, she slipped softly away.
The staff and volunteers were there, when I was ready to leave the room. They opened the door that led onto the deck, “to let her fly,” they offered, by way of explanation. I have already forgotten their faces and names, but the kindness they offered has left me with a lasting memory. What amazed me most was how in sync we were in those final days, hours, minutes. We all knew; Leona knew too. Never one to not finish a book once she started reading, she waited for those final words to be read before making that soft exit.
To anyone looking to volunteer, consider Hospeace House or one of the other programs that offer hospice care. A friend of mine, after hearing about the care mom received, about our experience, did just that. She now volunteers at Hospeace House. For more information, visit their web site at hospeacehouse.org/.
Prior to the arrival of Covid-19, I had mentioned to my sisters the possibility of doing a fundraiser for Hospeace House. In wondering how that would look, I thought about the analogy of death as a journey across the water, as referenced in a recent reading of The Buried Giant, by Kazuo Ishiguro. My husband’s father and mother, Paul and Alice Touris, had collected light house figurines over the years, and a portion of their collection came to us when Alice died and Paul moved to a smaller residence alone. Those light houses will be part of an upcoming fundraiser that my three sisters and I will be hosting on behalf of Hospeace House, in memory of our mother. We had initially planned to have the light houses displayed publicly for auction, but are now setting up a virtual auction site. My oldest sister has created many beautiful quilts over the years, and she is currently working on a quilt that will be part of the fundraising. The quilt is a pattern called Storm at Sea, and features square “watercolor” images of the light houses that will be auctioned off.
Auction information will be posted on our website: www.owllightnews.com, on the Facebook and Instagram sites for Canadice Press, and through Hospeace House. Please watch for our launch and consider contributing to this great cause.