I entered the room of the inpatient unit, “Oh, what’s that smell,” was my first thought. It rather surprised me because the place is kept spotlessly clean. I looked around to see if the patient had catheter or something. She did not have any such medical equipment. I was a bit perplexed but let it go.

I looked at the dying patient, an elderly woman, eyes closed and mouth wide open. A part of me shrank back. At that moment, she was just that, an elderly woman lying there dying, mouth wide open, eyes closed.

I fetched a chair, greeted her, introduced myself and sat near her. In that moment, I ceased seeing her as just an elderly woman dying. I felt pulled into that “zone” and instantly felt connected to her. It is the “zone” I experience every time I am with an actively dying person. A zone where everything cleared and moved into insignificance. In that zone, nothing remained, there was only the dying person and I, filled with awe at the fact the person would be crossing over. Their time has come, mine has yet to.

And suddenly I felt like crying. A bit surprised it was happening, I controlled myself, expecting that feeling to pass as it usually does. Instead moments later, again I felt like crying. And again. I kept drying my tears and blowing my nose. “Tell me,” I asked the patient silently, “why am I crying? What is it with you that makes me feel like crying?” Finally, I allowed myself to cry the emotion out and then the emotion really left me.

I realized by this time what the smell was, the smell of one very close to death. I had experienced that smell twice before. The day before my husband passed away. And with another patient I sat with. The smell of that patient was so strong, even after a shower and change of clothes, the smell lingered. That always amazed me. Could the smell of the dying penetrate pores of my skin, I mused. And now this woman. I knew she was actively dying. That and the way her mouth was opened wide. Since she was actively dying, I decided I would stay with her the entire time left of my two hours volunteering with the dying.

I let my hand rest gently against hers so she would know I was there and meditated. Usually, it took a while for me to experience the energy in the air. With this patient, I got pulled into that energy almost instantly.

After half an hour, the doctor and social worker entered. As the doctor examined the patient, much to my surprise she opened her eyes a little though her eyes were glazed and unfocused. But she did open open her eyes; I had not expected that. She was not totally out of it. I felt moved to gently hold her shoulder with my hand. Inhibited by feelings of being self conscious, I did not. When they left, I did.

I stayed that way and meditated. I looked at her now and again. She looked so peaceful. I have always feared death. At that moment, had she taken her last breath, it would have felt the most natural thing in the world.

My shift ended. I said goodbye to her and she opened her eyes again slightly, unfocused but trying to see. She knows I am here with her, I thought, moved. I bade her goodbye again and took my leave.

As I left, a feeling of well being and happiness filled me. I felt like I was floating on the air, my mind cleared of all things, my entire being cleared of all things. However, I am no stranger to those feelings. I experienced it almost every time after I sat with the dying. It has a very therapeutic effect. That energy is cleansing.

Death for many might be sad and depressing. For me, it is a positive experience. I do not feel sad, instead, I find myself struck with awe. I do not see them as dying, I see them as moving onto the other realm.