Yesterday I saw firsthand what it means to die in peace and with conviction.
We woke up in the morning, had coffee, and then headed to what is called the Blue House. And then there were some bureaucratic procedures. As we were waiting for the nurse, Moshe wanted to record a few things. He wanted his family to know that the end was peaceful, intentional, and with acceptance and love. So, we recorded some videos for them about this. He was crying a little bit; it was just very emotional. It was not sadness. It was love and gratitude. I think even happiness that things were about to be over.
And then the procedure started. He had an IV and there’s this machine that pushes a syringe with the medication. They first put IV fluid—saline water—in it. And he pressed the button to see what he should do and how things get pressed and so on. When he saw all of this, they replaced the saline syringe with the medication. They asked him if he was ready. I gave him one last hug. I told him I loved him. He said he loved me back. He said thank you for the last few days, that he couldn’t have imagined them being better. And then, with conviction, I sat back. I told him that he should know how loved he is. He said he both knows it and he feels it. And then he leaned forward and with a lot of positive conviction— his hand not shaking—he pressed the button, leaned back into his chair, and in a few seconds he was asleep. You could see the peacefulness setting in. Within, I don’t know, 20-30 seconds, he stopped breathing.
We sat there for a while—the staff left and I sat there for a while. And then it was so strange. I got up and got a taxi and went to the airport. It was only when I arrived at the airport that I started feeling physically strange. I had time before my flight, so I tried to write and I realized how much pain I had in my hands. I always have a little bit of pain, but this was a lot more. I couldn’t even write. It became clear to me that it was not just physical pain. It was a combination of the emotional, mental, and the physical pain together that I was experiencing. Together it was just too much. Then I noticed that my whole body was shaking. Not big shakes, just little shakes. It felt that something was wrong physically. Flying there with him and then flying back alone with some of his possessions; there was something very tough about that. But on the flight, just as we were about to land, I went over the last four days, and I felt that I really did a good job. I made him happy and they were contemplative and thoughtful. He shared and I shared. And we talked a little bit about things like procedures and the letters that he wanted to write. But it was a time that was psychologically rich with experiences, with thoughts, with friendship, with caring. And I really feel that I stood up to my commitment on this in the best possible way. I was thinking that this may be my purpose in life. I think I did it very well.
He will be missed. I don’t know exactly how I’ll process the grieving and the experience and so on. But what a guy. He left me with lots of thoughts.
Maybe the most salient now is that it is possible to go peacefully if you feel that you’ve achieved the main missions in your life. Not just peacefully, but with the acceptance and even happiness to end life if you feel that you’ve been successful and that happiness and sadness can live side by side about the end of life.
I’ll keep contemplating this.
