The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully

by Frank Ostaseski

At some point, however, meaning loses its importance to people who are dying. They withdraw from the external world as they are pulled into a more inward journey. If we—their well-intentioned friends, family members, and caregivers—keep distracting them by pulling them back to the world of time, objects, and meaning, we may break their connection to the flow of the sacred. Grandma doesn’t want to talk anymore about her first kiss on the Ferris wheel at the county fair. Playing your father’s favorite song no longer sends him into a reverie about his wedding day. Auntie Ellen’s heroic expedition to Antarctica, which was once the defining adventure of her life, fades in importance. Remember the stillness and quiet I referenced that we feel at places that are doorways to the sacred, like Chartres Cathedral or a grove of redwoods? Now imagine several tour buses suddenly arrived and two hundred tourists disembarked with their cameras and loud voices, swarming through the place. Our attention would be sidetracked by the commotion. While the sacred would still be present, we might temporarily lose our connection with it. When caregivers and loved ones appear with their own agendas, memories, and needs, they become like the annoying tourists—an unpleasant distraction to those who are dying. But it need not be that way. As loved ones and caregivers, we can choose instead to act as quiet companions or trustworthy guides as the person who is dying journeys deeper into the sacred forest.