by Tessa Bielecki

Sunday, January 8

Jessica is on a long journey, moving, but very slowly. It is taking a long time, and it is getting harder for her. In whatever way I can, I am being a companion along the way, though I know that most of the way she must go alone.

"You can't take it with you," as we all know. This is writ large, sitting at Jessica's deathbed, surrounded by her books, family photographs, and lovely southwestern paintings. Perhaps this is why she keeps stripping off her sheets and her nightgown several times a day. Is she experiencing what Job did as he tore his gown and proclaimed: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, naked I shall return" (Job 1:21)? "She wants to get out of this body," said the hospice nurse. As the literature reads: "The owner is no longer in need of a heavy, nonfunctioning vehicle."

After a peaceful morning sleeping, Jessica became very active and vocal around 2 pm. For over an hour she repeatedly called out, "Take me! Home! Please. Take me to the end." At one point she shouted it loudly. A dying person frequently makes restless repetitive motions, due partially to the decrease in oxygen to the brain and other metabolic changes. But the movements this afternoon seemed deliberate and directed. Jessica kept holding her arms out and strongly reaching forward, as though "someone" were there in front of her, which is probably the case. She also kept folding her hands in prayer, very unlike the aimless flailing motions.

To help calm and reorient her, I quietly told her that Connie and I were there, "watching" and praying with her. She gave us a big smile and almost laughed, then grabbed on to my hand as Connie rubbed her back to bring her some relief. It was hard to understand her, but she said, "I can't talk well. Hello, hello!" She was extremely energetic (for a dying person), and wanted us to sit her up, which we did with difficulty. Then on her own she would rock back and forth, trying to move. "I must be off," she announced clearly, as she pulled the sheets up over her head and groaned. Then she removed the sheet and stripped again. She put the nightgown over her head meticulously like a shawl and arranged her hair, saying, "I must go... Let's go."

She finally fell back to sleep again, exhausted. It felt as though she had completed some important phase. Jan, Connie and I sang Compline in the oratory tonight instead of bedside.

Next Journal Entry || Fr. Dave Denny's Reflections on Jessica