In “Creating Space for Narratives in Breakdown to Speak: Death, Liminality and an Ethical Reimagining of Narrative Medicine” (Fall 2020 Intima), Rachel Reichenbach calls our attention to the ways the dying patient’s narrative becomes less structured and less coherent than it was before the dying process took hold. In her academic paper, she stresses the need for practitioners and caregivers to “…interrogate how our own lens skews… our perception...” Most striking re: my own essay “The Personal is the Pastoral” (Fall 2021 Intima) is the difference between the living and dying person’s perception of time. The liminal space inhabited by the dying person, the author asserts, is where their experience of time changes. Their narratives lose their former structure, becoming fragmented, even chaotic.
The fractured stories at the end of life often reflect an ineffable but powerful experience of creativity, insight or even revelation, asserts Reichenbach. These opportunities arise because the dying person doesn’t see time according to the clock of the living. Imagine how much one could conceive of were time not of the essence.
In my essay, I write that my dearest friend Patty abruptly learned her death was imminent— that she didn’t qualify for a last-ditch clinical trial. Still in the land of the living, she went to pieces. She cried out she needed more time. But she quickly realized she only needed to see her adult children and tie up some loose ends. I would accompany her in her last lap.
I’ve often puzzled over how rapidly Patty went from utter devastation to feeling “calm and happy.” With a tiny window to guide her, I had worried I’d fail her. I’d been going by “real” time. Her narrative had shifted, as had her previous concerns.
Patty seemed to do a lifetime of internal “work” in about forty minutes. Sobbing, she stated her fears and her wishes. Besides the urgency to see her children, she felt indebted to me (financially and in other ways), something that had always troubled her. I reminded her she’d been a lifelong caretaker, and that she’d given much to me. She finally got it.
Reassured about her worldly concerns, Patty seemed to slip into a new dimension, evidenced by her beatific smile. She was present and absent. Upon reflection, I think I’d had a taste of eternity rarely found in our material lives.
My thanks to Rachel Reichenbach for enabling these insights.
Betty Morningstar has practiced psychotherapy in the Boston area for over forty years. As a clinical social worker and associate chaplain, Dr. Morningstar has written and taught about the connections between psychotherapeutic practice and spirituality. Her guest blog posts have appeared on the Chaplaincy Innovation Lab website housed at Brandeis University. In addition, she has co-authored and co-led workshops on creating anti-racist organizations. She lives on Cape Cod, MA with her wife and elderly dog, Cooper. Her essay “The Personal is the Pastoral” appears in the Fall 2021 Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine.