We know that this life does not last forever. All of us will die. The Church teaches there are Four Last Things. Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell.
I’ve already written about my idea of judgement and going to heaven or hell. What about purgatory?
Nothing that is imperfect can be in heaven. Every person, with the exception of The Blessed Virgin Mary and those recognized as saints, does not go to heaven right at death. Everyone else spends time in purgatory.
At death our body dies. Our soul, however, is immortal. It leaves the body and appears before Jesus for judgement. God, through His infinite mercy, allows those who love Him to complete the purification necessary to enter heaven after death.
We can help our purification in this life by accepting God’s love rather than rejecting it. Practicing Virtue along with the Spiritual Acts of Mercy and the Corporal Acts of Mercy helps to purify the soul.
I think under the Visit the Sick Corporal Work of Mercy we should also include defending and advocating for the sick and dying.
We live in a culture that St. Pope John Paul II referred to as the Culture of Death.
The people most at risk in this culture are the unborn and the elderly. Abortion is a grievous sin that should be obvious to all even though it isn’t.
The treatment of the elderly as they approach death is a little less obviously a threat to the elderly. Yet, it is a great threat.
My father died August 4, 2008. In late March that year he was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor where his kidney had been removed many years before due to cancer of the kidney. A plan for radiation treatment was begun that would eventually have to be discontinued. The cancer had spread to his brain and other locations in his body. The radiation would not be successful, and it was wearing him out.
At the time of this decision, my dad was staying in a care facility just down the street from the radiation treatment center. While he was at the facility, he was diagnosed with a choking problem when he swallowed liquids. He was limited to being given thickened fluids.
Swallowing thickened fluids is like trying to swallow thick glue. My dad would not drink it. This would cause him to be dehydrated which would result in him having to be taken by ambulance to the hospital and put on intravenous fluids. When he arrived at the hospital, he looked like he was about to die. Could not speak. Could not open his eyes. Shortly after the IV was inserted he would recover and appear normal. He was lucid and talkative. This happened more than once.
The nurses at the facility all told me it was natural and normal for dying people to become like my father did. I spoke to the doctor for the facility. He assured me it was part of the dying process, and my father was not suffering from it.
I did not agree.
My dad wanted to come home to die. The facility my dad was in was not licensed to put my father on an IV. They would not release him to come home because of his swallowing problem and we could not have him home on an IV.
A speech pathologist is the person who makes the diagnosis about a swallowing impediment and how it has to be treated. My older daughter is herself a speech pathologist. I talked to her, and she suggested a method for giving my father water that could be controlled so he did not choke. The speech pathologist at the facility agreed to the method and he was able to come home.
My dad came home on Sunday, July 27. My cousin, who was like a daughter to my dad, came from Ogden, UT to stay with him. I also stayed with him the following week. My dad remained alert through the following Saturday. He received the sacraments.
My cousin had to return home on Saturday, and we hired a caregiver to stay with him and me. On that Saturday he greeted family and friends. On Sunday he did not open his eyes, but my daughter held his hand while we sat around his bed and prayed the rosary and talked. He was alert. We knew that because he would squeeze my daughter’s hand. My family, including my grandchildren, along with my sister and brother-in-law were there.
Monday morning I got up and came into the family room where my dad’s bed was. He was asleep. I kissed him on the forehead and told him I loved him. I then went to take a shower and get dressed.
When I got out of the shower my cell phone was ringing. It was the caregiver. She told me my father had died.
I don’t know if the doctors and nurses were correct about a dying person not suffering when they are not being hydrated. I know how terrible it is when I am really thirsty and want a drink. I suppose once the person is no longer in a conscious state, they may not feel like they are suffering. However, had my dad not been hydrated he would not have been able to say his goodbyes and be prepared for death that takes us all.
My dad died a happy, peaceful death.
Prepare yourself to advocate for those you love and for those who need it.
Addendum: My dad never wanted to talk about death. It made him very uncomfortable. I don’t know if he feared death or just didn’t want to think about it. I thought it was because he had not been confirmed when he was young. I tried to get him to go to RCIA when I was teaching it. He would not enroll.
Before we knew my dad’s cancer was terminal I asked my sister to talk to our pastor about confirming our dad. She did and the pastor agreed to confirm him. At the time my parents were staying at my sister’s house as they both needed care. The pastor came over and confirmed our dad.
After he had started treatment we were told by his oncologist the cancer had spread to his brain and other parts of his body. However, the care facility would not release him because of the swallowing issue.
I was visiting with my dad while he was in the hospital following one of his dehydration episodes when the hospitalist came to see him. He told us, in effect, the treatment needed to stop as my father’s cancer was terminal.
I was visiting my dad in the care facility a couple of days later. As I talked to my dad I realized he had not understood the doctor telling us his cancer was terminal. I leaned close to him and said softly, “Dad, you know you are going to die.” He looked at me and asked, “I am? — Oh.”
From that point on all he wanted to do was go home, which we finally managed to accomplish.
The following week at home he was very peaceful and in pretty good spirits. However, he was not ready to go — yet.
On the Sunday before he died my sister kept telling my dad, “Dad, it’s OK for you to go.” She had read that sometimes people linger on the verge of death because they think they have to remain for the family. Telling them it was OK to go was intended to make it easier for the dying person to “let go”.
After this had gone on for a while, my dad, without opening his eyes and probably using every ounce of strength he had, roared, “NO!!!!!!” It was quite apparent he thought otherwise.
I will not know for certain in this life, but I believe the sacrament of Confirmation gave my dad the grace to face his death and prepare himself for it. I have no idea what conversations he may have been having with Jesus, and maybe even his guardian angel, on that day when his eyes were closed and he didn’t talk with us. What I do know is he was at peace when he died.
Greg Gillen
July 14, 2023 (My parents 80th wedding anniversary)
Updated May 13, 2024
© 2025 Greg Gillen
Image Credit/Death of St. Joseph/Relevant Radio
