Part 1 of 3: The Longing to Go —Supporting a Parent in the Final Transition
Dear Friends,
I want to share a deeply personal story—my experience walking alongside my mother during her final chapter. If your parent chooses a conscious approach to dying, I hope that something here will offer comfort, insight, or simply companionship for your own journey.
A Desire to Leave
At age 97, my mother had been praying to leave this world for several years. The idea of living to 100 not interest her—in fact, it felt burdensome. As her physical strength declined, she often asked aloud, “Why am I still here?” But ending her own life wasn’t something she would consider. Suicide went against her spiritual values.
Though she maintained an impressively sharp mind—handling her own bills, taxes, and appointments well into her 90s—her sight and hearing diminished, isolating her from the world. I became her main connection: a regular visitor, companion, news source, and entertainer. Thankfully, she lived nearby at Eskaton, an assisted living facility, so I could stop by often. This was a blessing, giving us meaningful time together, but also demanded a great deal of patience and a large chunk of time.
Her Purpose Was to Be Happy
Despite her limitations and mostly using a wheelchair due to arthritis, my mom never complained. She had a resilient spirit. On her nightstand was a yellow sticky note with a simple smiley face and the handwritten words, “Be Happy.” That message came to her during meditation—her purpose in this life was to radiate joy and happiness to others.
She made a point to share kind words, offer light-hearted jokes to the staff, and when her favorite caregivers came to visit they would pray for people they knew. In her own gentle way, she practiced her faith and service until the very end.
The Stress of Advocacy
One of the more difficult roles I had was translating during visits with her homeopathic doctor. Because she couldn’t hear well and struggled with the doctor’s accent, I became her interpreter. Homeopathy requires a lot of detailed observation and symptom tracking—something she was simply not interested in doing.
“You know I don’t pay attention to those things,” she would say, even though those were the very things the doctor needed to know. It could be frustrating, but it was worth it. Homeopathy worked well for her. Over the last seven years, she had:
Come off blood pressure medications
Recovered from a chronic UTI
Fared remarkably well when she had COVID
Regained ability to transfer in and out of bed alone
Her health was actually quite good for her age, which only deepened her feeling that she had outlived her purpose. “All my friends are already partying in the next world!” she joked often. Beneath that humor, I could sense her loneliness.
Still, she never lost her faith. As a devoted follower of the Bahá’í Faith, she believed the next world would be glorious—a release of the spirit like a bird escaping from its cage. She anxiously looked forward to that freedom, and she hoped to avoid suffering a major illness on the way out.
The Final Turning Point
Then one Monday evening, she mentioned a mild sore throat and a bit of a cough. By Tuesday morning, she couldn’t lift her head. She had a high fever, a harsh cough, and a rapid heart rate. The ambulance took her to the ER, where they diagnosed Influenza A, dehydration, and a UTI—possibly leading to sepsis. Her heart was racing in the 170s.
The ER doctor said the decision of care was hers. She had signed a DNR, but this was the moment to decide if she really wanted to refuse all treatment. At first, she paused. Then, with clarity, she said, “No! This is my ticket out of here.” When her homeopath said she could recover, she glanced at me and whispered, “Oh, wouldn’t that be disappointing?”
A Role the System Wasn’t Built For
Choosing to let go didn’t fit the standard medical playbook. The staff wanted to begin protocols—morphine, heart medications, antipyretics, antibiotics, antivirals—but she refused. She was too weak to move, but conscious, lucid, and not in pain. I stayed with her around the clock to ensure her choices were honored.
As her daughter, I was her advocate—fighting gently but firmly for her right to decline intervention. Several nurses and a doctor expressed concern. They worried about legal risk. I was told that someone had to be present 24/7 to continue refusing treatment on her behalf. It felt like an intense responsibility—and I didn’t have anyone to back me up. But I held my ground.
Eventually, the hospital suggested palliative care, and everything shifted. The pressure lifted. What followed was truly beautiful: three days of loving, respectful, and tender care from the staff at Sierra Nevada Memorial Hospital. The compassionate care from the nurses—both women and men—left a lasting impression on me.
Returning Home
When it was time, the discharge nurse and Hospice of the Foothills coordinated with Eskaton to bring her home with hospice care in place. She was ready. Her final wish—to leave this world with dignity, peacefully and without intervention—was honored.
What’s Next
In Part Two, I’ll share the homeopathic remedies that helped my mother remain calm and comfortable during the dying process, without excessive sedation. I’ll also talk about the supportive remedies for caregivers—the ones that helped me manage grief, fatigue, and the emotional weight of watching someone you love prepare to transition.
If you’re walking this path or anticipating it, please know: you’re not alone. I’m here if you ever need support or a listening ear.
With loving greetings,
Leslie