Goodbyes

Relishing a last dance

For most of her life, 82-year-old Marilyn "Minty" Coyne has been passionate about square dancing. Now in hospice care with life-threatening breast cancer, Minty wanted one more chance to do-si-do and promenade.

Yesterday, the hospice granted her wish by bringing a group of professional square dancers in cowboy gear to the nursing center where Minty lives north of Boston.

Minty donned a colorful skirt and ruffled red blouse and danced to the music as a small crowd of residents, nurses, and social workers "hooted and hollered in appreciation," according to the Boston Globe account. It was the diminutive widow's first square dance in a decade, and after some swinging and clapping, Minty sat down, took a deep breath, and exclaimed, "That was wonderful."

Everyone deserves a chance to enjoy one's life passions, especially as the end draws near. Here's to you, Minty.

To read this story, click here.

A year of goodbyes

It has been a year since I began blogging about goodbyes at the end of life, and I wanted to pause and reflect on what I have learned and, hopefully, passed along to you.

During this year, I've had the privilege of sharing the stories of sons and daughters, parents and grandchildren, friends, caregivers, colleagues, and even dog owners who have lost their loved ones, both suddenly and after long illnesses.

I have learned so much from them, including how hard it can be to say goodbye, and also how hard it can be to not express how you feel.

I've learned that a loved one's death leaves a permanent hole, and that even years after the loss, emotions and memories can remain raw and potent, and people are still missed terribly. That's because that hole is never filled, you just build your life around its precious space.

Through my blog, I've discovered that goodbyes can take many forms –- from sewing quilts to honor a beloved grandmother to scattering a friend's ashes in a cherished place to building a fire for your ailing dad to unzipping a body bag to thank to a fallen soldier. And I've learned that even if you can't say farewell in person, small gestures like writing a letter to a grieving widow can be hugely meaningful.

Many of these stories have inspired me to always say "I love you" to the people at the heart of my life and to do my best -- as Randy Pausch so eloquently expressed through his "Last Lecture" messages -- to live life to its fullest. I've been reminded that what matters most at life's end is our relationships, and that what connects us as human beings is this: We want our lives to have meaning.

Thank you to everyone who has shared a story and/or encouraged me to keep writing.

Debbie