A few years ago, I read a book called, Final Gifts. The book talked about death and shared stories from hospice workers. My mentor and friend, Gail, had recommeded the book to me because a close friend of Matt’s had been diagnosed with brain cancer, and the prognosis was 18 months. Gail is always helping me to be a student of the lessons life brings me. This friend ended up living another three years beyond his prognosis, and the moments leading up to his final weeks were precious to Matt and me, and our four children.

In many ways this book caused me to see death in such a new way. It was compared to birth, this passing from one place to the next, and an event that can have a holiness and sacredness to it. There are midwives and there are hospice workers, one on the front end of life, and the other on the backend of life. Some birth in their homes, some wish to pass away in their homes.

I always understood death could be a sweet passing into eternity, but story after story in this book revealed that when one is on one’s death bed, there are certain things that they need in order to really let go, and to let eternity take them. It had me holding death in a more sacred posture than I had in the past, it was beginning to feel like it was in actuality a very holy exit.