A Good Death

Her hand was frail in mine, yet her grip was tight as I began to share with her the painful truth: she was dying. She asked:

“So, how much time do I have left?”

“When I am short of breath like this, I feel terrible. Will my suffering worsen?”

“You’ve witnessed the final moments of many others. What will it be like?”

“My family understands what is coming, but what exactly will they see?”

I answered her questions as clearly, honestly, and gently as possible. But something about this moment—perhaps her quiet strength in the face of death, or maybe the fact that she would be missed terribly by her family, as well as by myself—moved me unexpectedly.

When I finally said, “I’m so sorry to have to tell you these things,” I began to weep.

To my surprise, my patient grabbed my other hand and squeezed it even tighter. “It’s okay,” she said as she comforted me. “I am going to have a good death. Please prepare my family. I am ready.”

As I left her room, the statement “I am going to have a good death” lodged in my mind. In the days and weeks that followed, I could not shake it. What does it mean to have a good death?

I thought about how so many people struggle mightily against our common destiny, seeing nothing about it as good. Meanwhile, others face death willingly, almost eagerly, as though they are arriving at a long-sought destination.

Yet my patient was genuinely peaceful as she prepared to depart this life. She seemed to possess a great secret that might benefit those she was leaving behind. Because of God’s mercy in my own life, I knew her secret—and it was glorious. This was a woman who was confident of her destination. This was a woman who lived a life anticipating heaven. The hope found in Christ can move us not only toward a good death but to live with a hopeful end in mind.

Pray With Me

Father, I thank you for the hope of heaven. Let your promises and peace guide me as I seek to live every day I have left with joy and purpose.