Dancing for the Dying

I dressed up for the dying. That's right, while they were trying to navigate through the last stages of life, I concentrated on bringing some kind of light to them. And I'm happy to say that I did deliver a light - it was in my clothes. I had a wardrobe so lovely yet under-appreciated but seeing how they all just perked up, smiling and praising my outfits - well, it gave a whole new meaning to ‘dressing for the occasion.’ For that light which I saw in their eyes, that understanding of beauty, well I knew that far beyond science claiming their aging minds were misfiring, their spirits were, however, indeed solid.

They especially loved it when I wore long dresses and skirts, things that twirled, bright colors, fabrics with movement. I made it a point to get their attention, making sure to stride when I entered the main area, so that a small wind gathered under my dress, flowing all the way. These precious elders were all so attracted to pretty clothes.

One day in particular, while the caregivers where getting them prepared for lunch after their music class, I heard "Moon River" playing on their television set. From a distance, I started singing and dancing along thinking that no one could see me. I realized as I was raising my leg like a ballerina that they were watching me - all of them - with a smile on their faces, a twinkle in their eyes and a soft happiness which seemed to wrap the mood lovingly. When the song was over, they clapped - joyful, enthusiastic - perhaps an audience so misunderstood because for me, at least, it seemed as if they knew exactly what was happening. They did not look vacant or scared but rather shared a collective admiration for what they were witnessing: a short and sweet love song they all knew from their youth, a dance performed by someone they liked, who wore pretty dresses and spoke tenderly.

My time at the memory care facility was necessary for how I evolved as a human being. I always carried an innate respect for my elders; it's a duty in my culture to demonstrate how we honor them. By standing up to greet them when they enter a room, by speaking to them with love and admiration, by realizing and appreciating their wisdom, by having entire families surrounding its eldest member at functions in reverance, by keeping them on a pedestal - or really - by supporting them on their throne. The elders possess a majesty which only comes with a lifetime of experience. The things they have seen, overcome, lost, battled, loved... they are the treasures of the human race, the carriers of profound wisdom.

I loved each and every one of them, truly. What an absolute honor it was to be able to say goodbye to these souls minutes after they passed. Their families knew me and were very kind when I wanted to spent some time with their loved ones who had literally just passed away in their rooms. When someone dies naturally, they always go the same way - with their entire jaw wide open, literally as if their entire soul left with that one, last holy breath. Their is a specific sound - that last slow, haaaaaaaaaah, which some have said is our soul calling out "Yahweh." It's quite an overwhelming sight to behold at first because you can never find at any other time - a mouth so completely hyperextended, like they yawned enormously and then their jaw froze wide open, teeth completely exposed. The head is always tilted upwards towards the Heavens, and what's left are these tiny bodies which are no longer suffering.

My observations and conclusions I’ve made based on my experience working for the elders is that their spirit is in tact. It’s not something I can prove but trust me, you just know this when the time is right - for yourself and for others. Let us never forget to treat them as if they can feel, understand and remember everything because our soul certainly does.

One day, each and every one of us will die. And it truly can be a beautiful process. But before we transition and pass on, we will be suspended in an existence which most don't really understand, perhaps because we are afraid, or we assume that old people's dominant state is one of helplessness, suffering, dependence, fear and angst. If we can get to a place of loving that time right before death - those weeks, months or years which are left, I truly believe that we can die fulfilled. As for me, I’ll be twirling in my pretty dresses forever.