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Inner Peace: Bearing witness to a divine presence Sarah Seybold Friday Jan 6, 2017 at 7:02 PM Jan 6, 2017 at 7:02 PM By Sarah Seybold Recently I was asked an intriguing question: “ How does Divine presence show up in your life?" The veil between this existence and the hereafter becomes most transparent for me when I accompany one who is close to death. It happened in an afternoon session with 67-year-old Jim. He had asked his wife to call a few of his close friends and invite them to come, one-by-one, so he could say goodbye. Only a few weeks had passed since I had visited Jim at Stanford Hospital. That was the day of his liver biopsy. The very next day the oncologist told Jim that he had advanced metastatic cancer with 1-2 months to live. At our session Jim sat in a comfy bedroom chair dressed in a terry robe. He gratefully accepted my offer of a foot massage. As I poured warm oil on one foot at a time, I gently stroked. I watched him relax and I heard a deep moan followed by quiet sobs. “I don’t want to die, I am not ready!”  But time was short and Jim knew from his experience as a hospice volunteer that he had things to do: an obituary to write and music and readings to select for his memorial service. Of course there were financial matters to discuss and Christmas to be celebrated. Jim asked his son Mark to take him shopping so he could pick out a special gift for his wife. Eighteen years later, Margo still wears Jim’s delicate gold chain with a little gold heart that has a tiny diamond in the center.  Two days before Jim died there was a visit from his priest. Fr. John prayed, anointed and invited the family to come close. Jack and I stood at the foot of his bed. Jack softly strummed his guitar as we sang Jim’s favorite song: “Just A Closer Walk With Thee.”  My very first encounter with hospice was through Jim’s death. From it I made a decision to get trained to be a hospice nurse. Since my experience with Jim, I have felt Jim’s guiding presence in my hospice work.  Six months later, I watched my first hospice patient embrace her impending death with unfaltering dignity.  I met Mary Lu the day she accepted care from hospice. During my admission interview, Mary Lu, age 73, sat at her dining room table sipping coffee. She gestured for me to fill my cup and take the chair across from her. Her clear blue eyes invited me in. Alert and interested, Mary Lu listened to my explanation of hospice services. As her case manager, I would visit her several times a week. I ordered medications and a hospital bed to be delivered that afternoon. I explained hospice services. Then I began her physical assessment, listening to her heart and lungs. Her speech interrupted my concentration: “According to my doctors’ calculations, I have one month to live,” she said. Then I asked her, “How do you feel knowing that you have one month to live?” Her eyes lit up and widened. She gazed off into the distance and serenely replied: “I am really looking forward to the journey!” Mary Lu was my hospice patient for four weeks. With each visit her energy diminished and she became bed bound. It was my joy to pamper Mary Lu, a woman who had raised four children and taught hundreds of third graders in her teaching career. Soon she lost her appetite and no longer wanted food or fluids. Her body systems were shutting down. In time Mary Lu’s breathing became uneven. Sometimes it stopped for a few seconds and at other times it was rapid and shallow. Friday was my last visit. I increased her medication to lighten the restlessness that had begun. Mary Lu remained alert, but said nothing until I asked: “Have you said all your good-byes?” “Oh yes,” she whispered, “and I am not afraid to go!” Her family surrounded her bed and held her hands. One-by-one, I heard: “I love you, honey; I am sorry, Mom; we’ll miss you, Mom.” Then Mary Lu gave a sigh and her breathing stopped. It was at that very moment that I had a profound awareness of the thinness of the partition between now and forever. Sarah is a retired registered nurse who served in Turkey and Brazil as a Peace Corps volunteer. She has been a nurse educator and a hospice nurse. Currently Sarah is on the board of Southern Oregon Friends of Hospice whose focus is fundraising to open a 12-bed hospice house to serve hospice care needs in Jackson and Josephine counties.