Several years ago, one of my favorite colleagues was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer and her doctors anticipated she would die within a few months. The diagnosis was a shock. She was close to retirement and had been eagerly anticipating post-retirement life. She told me the news in her customary no frills way: “I’m a dead person.”
But she wasn’t dead yet and for the months she had left, I had no idea what to talk to her about. I saw her many times after I knew she was dying and every time, I carefully avoided the topic of her death. But it seemed pointless to pick up our usual conversation topics, which revolved around work, writing, and travel. None were relevant to her anymore.
I did my best to steer our conversations to our children or our shared history of living in Virginia—topics that felt “safe” to me. She wanted to talk about how her wife would fare as a widow, but I mistakenly thought I should just tell her not to worry about that and trust that her wife would be fine. In hindsight, I wish I had invited her to share her anxieties about her wife instead of shutting them down.
My husband wanted to talk about his death and how I would manage, too. He didn’t have a terminal diagnosis, but he felt that his death was imminent after the stroke and the seemingly endless complications he suffered. Three months after his stroke and nine months before he died, he begged me to talk to him about his death. I reluctantly agreed, certain that the conversation wasn’t necessary and would just be horribly depressing.
It was a very difficult conversation, but we both felt immensely better afterward. We were both able to feel peace, knowing that nothing was left unsaid between us. That conversation allowed me to remove him from life support when the time came with a clear conscience.
My friend and my husband are not unusual in their desire to talk about their deaths and the aftermath. I am learning now in a class I’m taking to become certified as an end-of-life doula that dying people often want to talk about their death and how their loved ones will do afterwards.
I wish I had told my friend how much I would miss her. I told her I loved her, but I wish I had told her how much I would miss our conversations and her dry humor. I wish instead of brushing off her concerns about her wife I had invited her to share her worries. I thought my job was to resolve those worries or minimize them, but it’s clear to me now that I was wrong.
My therapist would remind me that I did the best I could at the time. I did not yet know how to hold space. I did not understand that when you are talking to a person who knows they are dying, they get to pick the topics. This is only fair since their time is limited. Whatever they want to talk about should be talked about.
Now I know.
Now I think “what’s on your mind?” might be the best question to open with. From there, allow silence, allow your own discomfort, and put aside your ideas about what “should” be talked about. It’s not really about you. If a topic comes up that you don’t know how to talk about, it’s ok to say, “I don’t know how to talk about this.” Let them talk about it. Maybe all you need to do is listen.