Today, my sister Lois and I, went over to see my oldest sister who was dying. She had a brain bleed earlier in the week and one of her children, Michael, was told that her quality of life would not be good, and she would be on a ventilator if she survived.
He had to immediately decide whether to send her to another hospital or to put her in hospice. Since she had talked over these subjects before, her son knew what she would have wanted. She was put into a hospice unit at the hospital.
It took us about 3 hours to get there and we stayed for about an hour. We were happy that she seemed not to be suffering any. Her breathing seemed steady, though I could hear some congestion. My sister wasn't conscious, but I know that even when that appears to be the case, on some level, the person can be aware of your presence and what you say.
Somewhere between 30-45 minutes after we left, my sister died. I had three sisters. Now, I have two. I had been recently talking to some friends about how we are now the old generation. Our parents are dead, and all of our aunts, uncles, and teachers. So, this is a first in my immediate family. We have lost a sibling.
This post has nothing to do with words, language, community, or even a desire for sympathy. It's just a musing on how things change, sometimes, without warning,
Oh, Sattva, I am so sorry. To lose a sibling must be very hard. Our thoughts are with you. And you are right, as a nurse I know how quickly life can change for people. The most important day to day things suddenly become so minuscule.
Sattva, I am so sorry for your loss. Yet glad you were able to be there so near to her passing, and sharing that with your other sister. How good that the three of you were able to be together at that time.