I remember the moment specifically. My mom had just received a troubling call about her aunt who she dearly loved. Her aunt was very ill, and all the measures put in place up to now to help her were not working at all. I remember my mom saying that something had to change and a decision was made. My mom wasn't happy with the decision, but she could see no other avenue given all the other complications in life at the time. It wasn't long before my mom's aunt passed away. In a sense, it was a relief, since the past few months had been full of tough decisions and upsetting events. But there was also the sadness that more could not have been done and that a good life, a life my mom had relied on and enjoyed for years, was now over. Like a situation I'm dealing with now, there was no easy answer with regard to this situation.
As I look back and remember the end stories for so many loved ones, those that lived long lives had short, difficult final days. In almost every case, my grandparents and elderly aunts and uncles were under the care of doctors, hospitals, medical facilities and/or medical professionals in their final days. Every situations was sad. Those that died at earlier ages, mostly had a more measured, peaceful, and beautiful end--though ever so sad, in these cases there was time to say goodbye and share loving words and care. But in the cases where people had lived long lives, situations where loved ones had essentially worn out, death was not as measured or peaceful.
In death, we learn that our impact and efforts are incomplete. The situation is greater than us--we can not control the details or the situation in general. Our impact is limited by knowledge, science, capacity, resources, and the essence of life alone. This is when we have to give what we can, and be at peace with what we can't do or provide. None of us are superhuman with regard to knowledge, experience, or impact--we all have limitations, and we have to accept that. Onward.
