Why closure is important at the end of life | Health


This article is part of a series in which we talk to people who – because of a special job, place or experience – share the wisdom they want others to know.

What is one thing people should know? A peaceful, supportive end-of-life experience – focused on family, closure and nature – can change the way people die and how loved ones mourn.


For Caty Hollis, 61, the path to palliative care began two decades ago, when her father chose to die in his London home after a long battle with colon cancer.

At the time, Hollis was a nurse at Bradford Royal Infirmary, a major teaching hospital in the north of England, and went to the center to support him in his final weeks.

Surrounded by loved ones, her father, a dedicated police officer, said he wished he had been there in the lives of his three daughters – and that he didn’t let his work take up too much of his time.

A week before his death, the family decided to spend his last days at home, where those closest to him gathered at his bedside and filled the room with his favorite music – from the smooth vocals of Frank Sinatra to the symphonic rock of the Electric Light Orchestra.

Hollis had just left work after suffering a miscarriage, one of several she has suffered in recent years. The recent loss angered her father, who wanted Hollis and her husband to have the joy of parenthood.

In her final days, she told him she was dying so she could have a child – “like a circle of life” – which, she said, brought her great peace.

At that time, the two Hollis sisters already had children, and they often struggled to be with them. Because of her reproductive problems, it was difficult for her to live with their growing family – especially when her father was dying and her older sister was pregnant. However, a few days before his death, he began to be comforted by his sisters.

“The morning before he died, settled in peace but no longer able to talk to each other, we spent time together talking about my sister’s son and laughing out loud at what he and his friend would say to their son.” We were all sure that Baba was able to hear us and enjoy the sound of laughter,” he said.

After he died, the comforting voice of James Taylor singing “You’ve Got a Friend” floated through the room – the song that would anchor his memories of his father.

Seeing him die, he was struck by how different he was from the deaths he had seen in his room.

We were all sure that Dad could hear us and enjoy the sound of laughter.

in Cathy Hollis

He spent his last hours in a place that he felt was more natural than he felt.

At home, the mood changed. Instead of immediate action at the hospital, where every effort was made to prolong life, the most important thing was to ensure that his last moments were as peaceful as possible.

At the neurology clinic, Hollis often dealt with end-of-life care, but it was mostly clinical, focused on the skills of the patient’s last hours. Watching her father die peacefully changed her perception of what caregiving would look like.

So, in 2003, Hollis decided to join Marie Curieone of the UK’s largest end-of-life care organisations, providing hospice care not only focused on medical care but also on the comfort, well-being and emotional well-being of patients and their loved ones.

He explained: “They have already diagnosed their disease, and they know that their life is limited, but the most important thing is that they can have a good place and the right people.”

Music, he said, plays an important role in caring for the dead, because “it can take you to places you don’t have… to other places and happy times”.

They already have their disease. They know that their lives are limited, but the most important thing is that they have a good environment and people.

in Cathy Hollis

Although hospital nurses can sing songs and deal with the physical needs of patients, Hollis said the greatest comfort comes when a person has a family, disagreements are put aside, open conversations, shared decisions, and a sense of peace.

It does not remove all difficult feelings, he explained, but for families who can spend the time in peace, they leave less room for guilt, misunderstanding, or conflict in the midst of grief.

He said that there are times when there is no relief or comfort, especially when caring for young patients or when someone dies from pain or stress.

Young patients “are not ready to die, and they fight it with everything they have,” he said, adding that the struggle to stay alive can add to the stress of everyone involved.

However, he said, most patients eventually reach a point of comfort and relaxation before passing out. He remembered one patient, a woman who had two daughters – one she lived with and took care of, but she had no contact with the other.

After the woman was admitted to hospice, the estranged daughter was notified and arrived, trying to take the lead role. This brought great sorrow to his sister and their mother. But with the help of medical staff and the Patient and Family Support Team, the conflict gradually subsided. Both daughters began to understand each other’s feelings better, allowing their mother to spend her last days in a peaceful and stable environment.

Sometimes, hospice can be filled with laughter, according to Hollis.

“There is a lot to remember, even when the patient can no longer respond – you can still have … joy, memories, and it can be a moment of real connection,” he said.

In the last 24 to 48 hours of their lives, patients often become unresponsive and unable to speak, but nurses still encourage their loved ones to continue talking to them, because they believe that hearing is the end of the last power.

Hollis’ work has also made him aware of what he said may sound old-fashioned – the desire to live in the present, not put things off for the future.

“I like to travel and live in the moment… as much as I love my job, I get my holidays, and I see my children… I have friends everywhere, and I make sure that I have holidays with all of them,” he said confidently.

In the end, Hollis hopes that his clients will see that the tension, calmness and unsettled conflict that feels like a constant in life will fall by the bedside.

That reconciliation, he said, is true comfort – something that allows a person to die in peace, and allows those they love to live without regret.

For Hollis, her father’s feelings about his death after giving him a child came true.

She said: “When I got pregnant again, my son was pregnant exactly one year to the day my father died.



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