On the Other Side of Hope – Hospice

They are the knock at the door you want to open because they understand the world you’re in when most others are too busy trying to get you out of it. 

November is Hospice and Palliative Care month.  Every month should be. Every day and every hour really is. Every second is for someone you know and someone you don’t.  Life isn’t over when hospice arrives.  Life is possible in ways others can’t always conceive—or choose not to.

Thank you to those who help us understand what we didn’t know was possible.  In honor of those who may soon join us on the other side of hope, share this message so that they know life does exist, beyond what others call hope.  Hospice is waiting to help you and your family—not to take you away from where you are—but to walk into the world you’re in when the unthinkable happens . . .

Most people talk about news like it’s something that happens out there on our televisions.  Like it’s something we comment on or react to when we are gathered with family and friends.  Most of the time, we can hide from the full force of unwanted news as we surround ourselves with people and information that makes us feel the way we want, avoiding anything or anyone that we think we can’t handle at any given moment.  But not all news is created equal. Some news finds us wherever we are and whatever we are doing . . .

 “This is not going to get better.”

 “There’s nothing more we can do.”

 “She’s dying.”

As you hear these words uttered, your mind separates itself from what is going on before you. You’re nodding and making eye contact with the people in front of you, acting as if you’re processing all that is going on, but you’ve already left your old self as a new reality has descended upon you without preparation.

This news is not somewhere out there—it’s everywhere, leaving us without protection as we see the world around us unfiltered, on the other side of hope.  It doesn’t allow us to close our eyes because it’s bright and overpowering even in darkness.  It doesn’t allow us to turn the other way because it’s there, staring right back at us, whichever we turn our focus.

“This is not going to get better.”

“There’s nothing more we can do.”

“She’s dying.”

Other people think of facts as bits and pieces of information that we gather and think about.  These statements aren’t facts.  We don’t digest this news. It digests us—rumbling through us, painfully and slowly, staying with us, eternally disagreeable.

“This is not going to get better.”

“There’s nothing more we can do.”

“She’s dying.”

Once we receive such news, all we have is the here and now.  To most others, this must be a destination of hopelessness where awkwardness and silence reign.  The place where laughter no longer exists and where peace can’t be found.  When most others walk away from the world we find ourselves in, hospice walks in.  They don’t just provide services. They are trained to find life in a world others call hopeless.  They say hello when experts on the future have long since deserted.  Nothing more to say. Nothing more to do.  Oh yes, there is. There is life here. I’ve seen it. They know of it.

To all of you who walk into our lives when others walk away, thank you.