Excerpts:
..... My father the rancher was stoic and taciturn.....
...... I didn’t want him to suffer. I wanted him to have a good death — something akin to the ars moriendi....
...... Latin for “art of dying,” the ars moriendi is a body of literature that originated in Europe during the 15th century, on the heels of the bubonic plague. Its aim was to provide a practical and spiritual framework for the preparation for death. It outlined prayers and protocols for the dying and for their communities. It emphasized the acknowledgement of human finitude.....
....... My father had never heard of the ars moriendi, but I was certain that it was what he would have wanted. In his living will and in past family discussions, Dad had been clear that he wanted no mechanical ventilation, no resuscitation, and no feeding tubes. And he wanted to die at the ranch, if possible.....
....... We arranged for an ambulance to transport him back to the ranch as soon as possible. “We’re leaving the hospital, Dad. We’re taking you to the ranch now.”.......
....... Removing him from the hospital most likely hastened his death. But the days that remained were rich — and in accord with his oft-stated wishes......
....... Voices soon filled the house; friends and family streamed in and out of his bedroom and paid their respects with quiet words and gestures, but with humor and laughter, too. The parish priest, Father Herman, administered the last rites, and a bedside vigil of contemplation and comfort unfolded for 3 days.......
....... In her book Dying in the Twenty-First Century, Lydia Dugdale asks whether we can revive the ars moriendi, despite our highly medicalized approach to dying. Looking at my dad, in his home, unencumbered by medical technology, I thought we had come pretty close. Here he was, embraced at home by the people who cared for him most. No medical teams on daily rounds, no machines to keep him alive. Just the smell of the plains, the comfort of his own bed, the voices of his loved ones......
...... Near the end of our vigil, my sisters and nieces and I were emotionally weary. As we sat with a neighbor in the living room adjacent to Dad’s bedroom, the neighbor inquired about the piano in the living room and mentioned that she played. “Could you play a piece for us?” we asked. Soon, plaintive, melancholy music surrounded us, soothing our sadness as we prepared to say good-bye to our father......
....... His condition continued to deteriorate, and on Thursday morning, my sister told him, “Dad, it’s a beautiful morning. It’s okay to go now.” Shortly thereafter, his breathing shifted and slowed, and then stopped. We held his hands and one another’s, feeling deep sorrow and a reverence for death......
....... In the year that has passed, I have been thankful to Dad for his foresight in preparing himself and his family for the kind of death he wanted. It was a challenge to resist the medical treatment I knew so well. But in honoring his wishes, we shifted our focus from life-prolonging technology to life-enriching community. And we managed to apply 15th-century principles to achieve a timeless outcome: a good death......