What an incredibly moving story, Chloe, my god... It's like you formed an impromptu hospice for her. I'm having this vision of beings walking among us, shining from within, all slow compassion, and you are one of them. ⭐💛✨
Troy, you really are the absolute sweetest. Thank you for your incredibly kind words. And you are, without doubt, one of the beings you speak of. 💗 (And I assure you that there is neither slowness nor compassion when I'm anywhere near the laundry detergent aisle 😇)
Gosh your work just keeps getting more profound and wonderful. It’s beautiful and engaging and always makes me think, keep up the most excellent work 💕
You did a wonderful thing. And I'm sure Joan remembered you, even if the conscious part of her didn't.
Awful that the ambulance took so long to come.
This was really vividly told, I could see everything. Although it is totally unrelated, I couldn't help but be reminded and see in my mind the scene from the video to Radiohead's Just. (I've always wanted to know whether they had any idea what the man on the ground said to make them all then assume the same position...)
Bless you, Nate, that's a very comforting thought. I'm so happy to hear that you could see everything, that means a lot.
Insanely long ambulance waits are a matter off course in the UK these days, sadly...
And I'd never seen that video! I knew the song, of course, but had some how missed the video. I tried to lip read what the guy was saying, to no avail. I'd imagine there's a subreddit somewhere with plenty of ideas!
Thank you for this beautiful heart warming story so beautifully told. I could feel how your legs held her, how it felt for her to rest her head back on your chest, your whispers to her.
Your loving kindness elicited a village to form around you, touching each person each passerby to acknowledge their own resources of love. Oh! that we could see and feel this in our every day.
She remembered you! (perhaps remembers you) where her soul speaks to her, sings to her heart of what is possible. Then and now, I want to say.
And, btw, I too do my best to shut down my senses when I run past the cleaning chemicals.
I left a restaurant today because of them. We gotta do what we gotta do!
Thank you, Rosi. It really was the strangest and sweetest way of she & I making the briefest of friends with various strangers over those few hours. Once the ambulance left the few of us left all hugged one another and left. Never exchanged names, but we exchanged hugs.
An incredible story, so full of love and pain. I’ll leave my belated comment here, because I too am an Aussie. I am lucky enough to live in a little village well-serviced by an ambulance (with the most wonderful paramedics) with two other ambulance stations within a 30 minute drive!
Our hospital system is dreadfully overstretched but thank goodness for those who give the hugs and love and care, including those souls like Chloe (and my neighbour Anna and the aforementioned paramedics) because that initial love and care is SO important.
Thank you dear Chloe. I’m sending heartfelt hugs and best wishes across the world. I do so hope that I meet you (and Nathan) at an Aussie Substack get together sometime in the future. 🤗🤗😘😘
Beth, of Aus! Thank you for sharing. I’m happy to hear you have an Anna around, I couldn’t agree more regarding that initial love and care. I wish it were more greatly valued in our culture. Sending you much love, and looking forward to the day that there’s a big Substack in-person meet up! 🤗💗
Aus is ok if you’re in the city. Had to call ambulance for my Mum last month and they arrived in half an hour. The further out you are? Longer waits or get a friend to fly/drive you.
Be still my heart, a world where love can be offered with grace and tenderness. May we all have moments where we are held by others as you held Joan, or where we offer the same to some creature or person. And may we all have the ability to be with our mortality in this same non-judgmental way as well.
Amen to that. It’s strange, since writing this I’ve realized that there’s a part of me that wishes all meetings were like this (minus the broken bones and pain, of course), but just a straight-to-it, ‘hi, how can I best hold you? What do you need from me to feel safe right now?’. More heart, I guess, is what I’m saying... thank you, Rain 🪶
You are so welcome. On a similar topic, just today I was recognizing my desire, once again, to offer what is needed.... and remembering how little I know about what that might be - until the person is willing to share what it is they have with me.
What it is they want, need, or don't want... seems so simple. But it is often not.
So few of us are comfortable with allowing ourselves to know what we ourselves need, nevermind with sharing that vulnerability with others. In a scarcity-minded world, having your true needs known often doesn't feel available or comfortable.
So how to listen for what is not known.or offered?
So again, I am leaning back into "I can be with and prize the person you are." When it is available.
Which you did for Joan, it seems.
Then there is the part where I am with and prize the person I am... and repeat... as available. And sometimes all of that, as available. Leaning in.
It seems you are doing that too, here, in this essay?
So love all of that!!
Btw, if that lands for you, there is a follow on IG that I can share & you might appreciate, just let me know!
Thank you, Rain. So much food for thought here. Yes, as soon as I read your words I realised that being open-hearted to receiving the sharing of someones personal needs feels surprisingly simple—but tapping in to, and voicing, my own?! That feels like a minefield!
So true about our scarcity-minded world; how terrifying, to voice a need we’re convinced can’t be met.
I love the phrase you use, “I can be with and prize the person you are”. I guess this sums up doula work, in a way. Maybe even all my work—“I can be with and prize the bird you are” 😉
This very much lands, I don’t have IG but am sure I can borrow someones to look around, so I’d be very appreciative of the share. Thank you for your insights, as always🪶
Glad you appreciated, happy to share. Loved "I can be with and prize the bird you are." 💕 And if you go on a browser, you can look up @inquisitive_human on Instagram and see a few posts before it locks you out (if so, just close the window the browser & then reopen & start over again), or look on someone else's account.
Oh, they're incredible. Thank you. Those are some genius little enquiries on their IG! Also really enjoy the site, their 'some things I believe' resonates so deeply. 🙏 Really tempted by the 'befriending jealousy' workshop!
Glad you liked them, I so agree! ... and I am actually going to their 'befriending jealousy' workshop, so don't be jealous! 😅🙃 If you ended up giving into temptation, you would sort of know someone. 😅 I took a longer course with them last fall & am so looking forward to this one. Will have to check out the things I believe list on their website!
The last three paragraphs of this sublime essay grabbed and stumbled me backwards into a poem that has bothered and confounded me for almost as long as I have been reading poetry. Readers of this substack will not need an introduction. So: why not go gentle into that good night? Why rage? Thomas loved his father, and the experience of his father's frailty at the end distressed him and evoked.... what? Not "embrace". Not "panic", not really. "Irritation"? That seems closest, but saturated to a darker hue. Why insist that we fight back against our demise? "wise men at their end know dark is right" (!). I really have nothing conclusive to say about this, except that this tension has gnawed at me for decades, and I would rather like to have it more sorted out by the time it becomes quite literally personal. Thank you for your essay. Thank you for taking care of Joan. And though is is unpleasant, thank you for pointing me back at frailty, and the basic questions it demands of us all.
Thank you, Chris. I often find myself thinking about that poem. I have nothing conclusive to say about it either, but I wonder if there might be a thread leading us back to Jung’s idea of wholeness…
From what I’ve seen of it, rage typically has sitting just underneath it either fear, or grief. Both of which easily gather around someones dying time.
I suppose that in witnessing someone fight back against their demise, one could be comforted, were they to interpret the fight against Death as a fight for life (and so, a fight on behalf of the living).
I’m not opposed, per se, to anyones chosen response to being asked to die, including raging at Death, though having witnessed people (actively) going gently into that good night, and seeing the profoundly healing repercussions it can have on those present, certainly makes it my preference… I specify ‘actively’ to differentiate between a genuine, conscious gentleness, and a perceived gentleness, brought about by high doses of opiates.
I appreciate you sharing your thoughts, and provoking mine.
I haven’t read everything on your substack yet, so you may have touched this subject already, but both of my parents expressed quite clearly before they died that they were satisfied with the lives they’d led, and - each in their own way - ready for the end. I am immensely grateful to have lived since their deaths knowing this, and I am grateful to each of them for letting me know it too. My mother feared death and fought like a wildcat, while my father accepted his death more Stoically - but they both gave me and my brother (Adam Nathan, the writer, btw) that gift at the end.
It sounds like your parents both gave the pair of you, in their own unique ways, one of the most loving gifts that can be given during someones dying time. I even find myself sensing relief in my own body just reading it. I believe that every Death naturally has a ripple effect, and that the ripples can be gentle, and offer solace in the immediate, but even potentially all the way up to someone else’s dying time. I think we all have a responsibility to, at the very least, consider the effect that our dying might have on those present, while also appreciating that we live in a culture that doesn’t encourage an awful lot of personal responsibility, or too much consideration of ones mortality.
I appreciate you sharing this about your parents, Chris. And your relationship to Adam! (I had wondered) :)
I remember reading in The Body Keeps the Score that sincere, present human interaction, held hands, eye-contact, a gentle embrace, can help a nervous system process and integrate a traumatic event. You were Joan’s angel that day, clearly holding and allowing your own fragility as much as hers. ❤️
You’re a wise woman, so of course you do 💗 Thank you for this, Kimberly. I certainly think we managed some co-regulation, made easier by her being such a character!
Hey, you could be mistaken for a tiny bird.. but you are in fact an Angel, and (at the risk of overusing bird/ winged creature metaphors) ... the wind beneath so many wings.
What a beautiful story about a terrible situation. We don’t have to be remembered to be loved. Thank you for being Joan’s haven that day.
Michelle, thank you, so much. "We don’t have to be remembered to be loved", I really felt that. Thank you, thank you 🪶
What an incredibly moving story, Chloe, my god... It's like you formed an impromptu hospice for her. I'm having this vision of beings walking among us, shining from within, all slow compassion, and you are one of them. ⭐💛✨
Troy, you really are the absolute sweetest. Thank you for your incredibly kind words. And you are, without doubt, one of the beings you speak of. 💗 (And I assure you that there is neither slowness nor compassion when I'm anywhere near the laundry detergent aisle 😇)
haha dastardly detergents!
Gosh your work just keeps getting more profound and wonderful. It’s beautiful and engaging and always makes me think, keep up the most excellent work 💕
Thank you so much, LRT. Your words mean a lot to me 💗🪶
You’re so so wonderful and so so welcome 💕
This is such a moving story. I'm so grateful that we get a Chloe in the world.
And thank the heavens we have an Ilana!
You did a wonderful thing. And I'm sure Joan remembered you, even if the conscious part of her didn't.
Awful that the ambulance took so long to come.
This was really vividly told, I could see everything. Although it is totally unrelated, I couldn't help but be reminded and see in my mind the scene from the video to Radiohead's Just. (I've always wanted to know whether they had any idea what the man on the ground said to make them all then assume the same position...)
Bless you, Nate, that's a very comforting thought. I'm so happy to hear that you could see everything, that means a lot.
Insanely long ambulance waits are a matter off course in the UK these days, sadly...
And I'd never seen that video! I knew the song, of course, but had some how missed the video. I tried to lip read what the guy was saying, to no avail. I'd imagine there's a subreddit somewhere with plenty of ideas!
An entire subreddit devoted to just Just! Yes. That's so good I'm not going to Google in case it isn't a thing.
Yeah, I hear bad things from my parents and siblings about the UK health system these days, too.
To be honest, Aus is probably not much better. I'm sure we're understaffed and under-ambulanced, too.
100%, let’s just believe it exists, no need to look!
It’s a mess in the UK, the current government have really done a number on, well, everything...
Run away to Australia 🙃... I can recommend it.
That’s the dream! We are very much in ‘ok, where are we going to live?’ mode. I’ll pop Oz on the list 💕 Would be so nice to hang in real life
🤗
Ditto.
Well, if you ever consider Melbourne, happy to offer any advice and thoughts from someone who did the Big Move way back in 2009 and never left.
Thank you for this beautiful heart warming story so beautifully told. I could feel how your legs held her, how it felt for her to rest her head back on your chest, your whispers to her.
Your loving kindness elicited a village to form around you, touching each person each passerby to acknowledge their own resources of love. Oh! that we could see and feel this in our every day.
She remembered you! (perhaps remembers you) where her soul speaks to her, sings to her heart of what is possible. Then and now, I want to say.
And, btw, I too do my best to shut down my senses when I run past the cleaning chemicals.
I left a restaurant today because of them. We gotta do what we gotta do!
You had to take care of Jane.
Bless you forever for that, Chloe.
Thank you, Rosi. It really was the strangest and sweetest way of she & I making the briefest of friends with various strangers over those few hours. Once the ambulance left the few of us left all hugged one another and left. Never exchanged names, but we exchanged hugs.
It’s well past midnight, sorry, I mean Joan.🙏
An incredible story, so full of love and pain. I’ll leave my belated comment here, because I too am an Aussie. I am lucky enough to live in a little village well-serviced by an ambulance (with the most wonderful paramedics) with two other ambulance stations within a 30 minute drive!
Our hospital system is dreadfully overstretched but thank goodness for those who give the hugs and love and care, including those souls like Chloe (and my neighbour Anna and the aforementioned paramedics) because that initial love and care is SO important.
Thank you dear Chloe. I’m sending heartfelt hugs and best wishes across the world. I do so hope that I meet you (and Nathan) at an Aussie Substack get together sometime in the future. 🤗🤗😘😘
Beth, of Aus! Thank you for sharing. I’m happy to hear you have an Anna around, I couldn’t agree more regarding that initial love and care. I wish it were more greatly valued in our culture. Sending you much love, and looking forward to the day that there’s a big Substack in-person meet up! 🤗💗
Aus is ok if you’re in the city. Had to call ambulance for my Mum last month and they arrived in half an hour. The further out you are? Longer waits or get a friend to fly/drive you.
Good to know.
Haven't had any ambulance experience (thankfully, touch wood) for a good six years ish, but we live in the city so there is that peace of mind.
Be still my heart, a world where love can be offered with grace and tenderness. May we all have moments where we are held by others as you held Joan, or where we offer the same to some creature or person. And may we all have the ability to be with our mortality in this same non-judgmental way as well.
Amen to that. It’s strange, since writing this I’ve realized that there’s a part of me that wishes all meetings were like this (minus the broken bones and pain, of course), but just a straight-to-it, ‘hi, how can I best hold you? What do you need from me to feel safe right now?’. More heart, I guess, is what I’m saying... thank you, Rain 🪶
You are so welcome. On a similar topic, just today I was recognizing my desire, once again, to offer what is needed.... and remembering how little I know about what that might be - until the person is willing to share what it is they have with me.
What it is they want, need, or don't want... seems so simple. But it is often not.
So few of us are comfortable with allowing ourselves to know what we ourselves need, nevermind with sharing that vulnerability with others. In a scarcity-minded world, having your true needs known often doesn't feel available or comfortable.
So how to listen for what is not known.or offered?
So again, I am leaning back into "I can be with and prize the person you are." When it is available.
Which you did for Joan, it seems.
Then there is the part where I am with and prize the person I am... and repeat... as available. And sometimes all of that, as available. Leaning in.
It seems you are doing that too, here, in this essay?
So love all of that!!
Btw, if that lands for you, there is a follow on IG that I can share & you might appreciate, just let me know!
Thank you, Rain. So much food for thought here. Yes, as soon as I read your words I realised that being open-hearted to receiving the sharing of someones personal needs feels surprisingly simple—but tapping in to, and voicing, my own?! That feels like a minefield!
So true about our scarcity-minded world; how terrifying, to voice a need we’re convinced can’t be met.
I love the phrase you use, “I can be with and prize the person you are”. I guess this sums up doula work, in a way. Maybe even all my work—“I can be with and prize the bird you are” 😉
This very much lands, I don’t have IG but am sure I can borrow someones to look around, so I’d be very appreciative of the share. Thank you for your insights, as always🪶
Glad you appreciated, happy to share. Loved "I can be with and prize the bird you are." 💕 And if you go on a browser, you can look up @inquisitive_human on Instagram and see a few posts before it locks you out (if so, just close the window the browser & then reopen & start over again), or look on someone else's account.
Oh, they're incredible. Thank you. Those are some genius little enquiries on their IG! Also really enjoy the site, their 'some things I believe' resonates so deeply. 🙏 Really tempted by the 'befriending jealousy' workshop!
Glad you liked them, I so agree! ... and I am actually going to their 'befriending jealousy' workshop, so don't be jealous! 😅🙃 If you ended up giving into temptation, you would sort of know someone. 😅 I took a longer course with them last fall & am so looking forward to this one. Will have to check out the things I believe list on their website!
Oh that's exciting! Yes definitely check out the things I believe, it's beautiful.
I'm trying to move things around to make the workshop work, I'll let you know if I'm going to be there. Would be an honour to share space with you! 💕
Beautiful my darling. Light work for the ages.
Et toi, ma chérie 🪶
The last three paragraphs of this sublime essay grabbed and stumbled me backwards into a poem that has bothered and confounded me for almost as long as I have been reading poetry. Readers of this substack will not need an introduction. So: why not go gentle into that good night? Why rage? Thomas loved his father, and the experience of his father's frailty at the end distressed him and evoked.... what? Not "embrace". Not "panic", not really. "Irritation"? That seems closest, but saturated to a darker hue. Why insist that we fight back against our demise? "wise men at their end know dark is right" (!). I really have nothing conclusive to say about this, except that this tension has gnawed at me for decades, and I would rather like to have it more sorted out by the time it becomes quite literally personal. Thank you for your essay. Thank you for taking care of Joan. And though is is unpleasant, thank you for pointing me back at frailty, and the basic questions it demands of us all.
Thank you, Chris. I often find myself thinking about that poem. I have nothing conclusive to say about it either, but I wonder if there might be a thread leading us back to Jung’s idea of wholeness…
From what I’ve seen of it, rage typically has sitting just underneath it either fear, or grief. Both of which easily gather around someones dying time.
I suppose that in witnessing someone fight back against their demise, one could be comforted, were they to interpret the fight against Death as a fight for life (and so, a fight on behalf of the living).
I’m not opposed, per se, to anyones chosen response to being asked to die, including raging at Death, though having witnessed people (actively) going gently into that good night, and seeing the profoundly healing repercussions it can have on those present, certainly makes it my preference… I specify ‘actively’ to differentiate between a genuine, conscious gentleness, and a perceived gentleness, brought about by high doses of opiates.
I appreciate you sharing your thoughts, and provoking mine.
I haven’t read everything on your substack yet, so you may have touched this subject already, but both of my parents expressed quite clearly before they died that they were satisfied with the lives they’d led, and - each in their own way - ready for the end. I am immensely grateful to have lived since their deaths knowing this, and I am grateful to each of them for letting me know it too. My mother feared death and fought like a wildcat, while my father accepted his death more Stoically - but they both gave me and my brother (Adam Nathan, the writer, btw) that gift at the end.
It sounds like your parents both gave the pair of you, in their own unique ways, one of the most loving gifts that can be given during someones dying time. I even find myself sensing relief in my own body just reading it. I believe that every Death naturally has a ripple effect, and that the ripples can be gentle, and offer solace in the immediate, but even potentially all the way up to someone else’s dying time. I think we all have a responsibility to, at the very least, consider the effect that our dying might have on those present, while also appreciating that we live in a culture that doesn’t encourage an awful lot of personal responsibility, or too much consideration of ones mortality.
I appreciate you sharing this about your parents, Chris. And your relationship to Adam! (I had wondered) :)
This is just... wow. Incredibly moving and sad and hopeful and... special. Thank you.
I hold my breath and fly through the detergent aisle too.
Thank you! And yes, that's the only way to traverse the detergent aisle
I remember reading in The Body Keeps the Score that sincere, present human interaction, held hands, eye-contact, a gentle embrace, can help a nervous system process and integrate a traumatic event. You were Joan’s angel that day, clearly holding and allowing your own fragility as much as hers. ❤️
And ps. I too, run away from the detergent aisle.
You’re a wise woman, so of course you do 💗 Thank you for this, Kimberly. I certainly think we managed some co-regulation, made easier by her being such a character!
Nice umbrellas
Why thank you Ryan
Hey, you could be mistaken for a tiny bird.. but you are in fact an Angel, and (at the risk of overusing bird/ winged creature metaphors) ... the wind beneath so many wings.
🪽🪶✨ thank you
No such thing as over using winged creature metaphors!! 🪶Thank you so much my sweetest love, you are my favorite tiny bird 🐣✨
Umbrellas: another Jesuit invention.
And one I’m extremely grateful for