Guadalupe Martínez Estrada
died on May 31, 2012 at around 6:30pm in her bed inside of Hospicio Santiago
Apostol, or Saint James Hospice, in Chimbote, Peru. Her funeral was held today
(June 2, 2012 as I am writing this) at 3pm where we prayed for her and her
family and I watched her casket drive away never to see her in person again.
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| Guadalupe and I in her home |
Guadalupe was one of my
Hospice patients. We have patients die all of the time (obviously, because I
work in a Hospice), but Guadalupe was my first patient who I have had since I
arrived almost 10 months ago that died. There are also a few patients I have a
looooot of love for, and she was one of them.
Every time I had Guadalupe on
my patient list I was excited to go see her. I would walk into her house made
of plywood and dirt floors and she would slowly make her way out of the hallway
to the couch to sit next to me. All the while her white, fluffy puppy Peluchin (her
best friend and constant companion) at her heels barking to greet me. She would
sit and grab his fluffy little face and say “No Peluchin, no le sucias, no le
sucias, tranquilo mi hijito tranquilo”, which means, “No Peluchin, don’t get
her dirty, don’t get her dirty, calm down my little boy, calm down”. Then she
would give him a pet and I would massage her back and her arms and we would
talk about life. How she was feeling, how she was sleeping, her pain, her
difficulty walking, her high blood pressure, what she was making for lunch, how
my cats are doing, how my family is, what the United States is like, where she
grew up, how her morning went…. Anything. We talked to her parrot and played
with Peluchin and made sure he got his back massage too and then we said
goodbye. Whenever I left I would give her a big hug and kiss and go on my way.
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| My best friend Erin who visited me from the US, Guadalupe, and Peluchin in her home. |
I can’t express the love I
have for this little abuelita, or grandma. She was so gentle, loving, and
patient. She was so caring and trusting and honest. She was such a beautiful
person and it was a blessing to know her.
Her death came as a shock. I
left to go to Cusco (which I will blog on next, but right now this is the issue
closest to my heart) and she was walking and talking normal. When I came back,
she was inside of Hospice bed-ridden, having trouble breathing and barely
speaking. I went in every morning to see her and talk to her. It was always a
similar conversation.
Me:
Hola Guadalupe, hola. Comos estas mamita?? (Hello Guadalupe, hi. How are you
mama??)
Guadalupe:
Hola hermanita. Que tal?? Estoy bien, tengo mucho sueño. Quiero dormir y
dormir. (Hi little sister. How are you?? I am good. I am so sleepy. I just want
to sleep and sleep.)
Me:
Quieres un poco de agua?? Como te sientes?? Como te puedo ayudar?? (Do you want
some water?? How do you feel?? How can I help you??)
Guadalupe:
No hermanita, pero tengo mucho sueño. Y estoy extrañando mi Peluchin. Quiero
ver mi Peluchin. (No sister, but I am so sleepy. And I miss my Peluchin. I want
my Peluchin.)
Me:
Si por su puesto. Tal vez yo puedo traerte tu Peluchin para verte?? Que
descansas bonito y ya vengo en la mañana a verte. (Of course. Maybe I can bring
your Peluchin to see you?? Rest well and I will come see you tomorrow.)
The nurses inside of Hospice
said every morning she cried for her little dog. So on Wednesday I did bring
her her Peluchin. I went to her house, and with her daughter and Kyle’s help,
we brought Peluchin into Hospice and carried him into her room. She cried when
she saw him, and petted him with any energy she had left and just kept saying
“Hola mi papa, mi Peluchin” over and over, which means something like “Hi my
boy, my Peluchin”.
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| Kyle and I outside of Hospice with Peluchin before bringing him inside to surprise his mama |
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| The Guadalupe Peluchin reunion, Guadalupes daughter on the other side of the bed. |
Everyone said she was very
calm after that, and she died the next day. I wasn’t there, but I am sure she
died in a peaceful sleep and woke up in the arms of God. She was buried in the
main cemetery of Chimbote, which is a big above ground cemetery with lots of
cubbies and sections and walking paths and trees and flowers.
Working at Hospice has really
changed how I view death completely. Death used to be something I had never
seen or had experience being around. It seemed scary, yes, and
mysterious. Death is such a crazy thing because no matter who you are, where
you are from, or what you do, it is eventually going to happen to you and there
is nothing that can stop it. Which could be horrifying, right??
But it isn’t!! If I have
learned anything from Hospice, it is that death is so beautiful and liberating.
Now, this obviously isn’t saying I am looking forward to it one day soon, but I
do feel a calm and peace about it that I didn’t have before. Death is a freedom
from this world, this mortal body, these wordly burdens and obligations, and a
release into the afterlife eternally with Christ. What an amazing way to end
your life, by going up to be with God. How incredible!!
Our culture makes getting
older seem awful, with everything Anti-aging and how to live longer. Like
getting older is a curse, and then death is some terrible, unnatural event we
need to procrastinate for as long as possible. When will we realize how
beautiful it is to get older, to have so many beautiful experiences and stories
in your pocket, so many people to have met in your life and shared with, to
look back and see so much beauty and wonder that you helped be a part of. How
truly awesome!!
People always say when
someone dies you should celebrate their life and not mourn their death.
However, this sounds cliché and easy to say if whoever died isn’t close to you.
I think a better way to put it though, is that of course you are going to cry
and mourn the death of someone you loved because we are human and we want them
with us, but to also see that amazing liberation and spiritual freedom of the
soul up to Heaven that is pretty incomprehensible to all of us left down here
on earth. We obviously don’t understand
the afterlife, and won’t until we are a part of it one day, but we can try to
understand the beauty in death and not the morbidness that our culture makes it
out to be.
I have seen a lot of
people die since being in Hospice. I have been with patients hours before their
death, I have been there moments after they have died, and I have held their
arm when they take their last breath. And the more I see it, the more peaceful and
understanding I feel about this mysterious thing called “death”, both for me
and for others who pass away. Death comes and passes. The world still continues
to turn after someone dies. Cars drive by and babies are born and rain falls
and dogs bark and kids go to school and the world continues on…. But we all
know that that one person has changed the world at least a little bit somehow,
and they will always be in our hearts until we too have the honor to die after
a long, happy life and once again embrace them when we meet in the eternal life
after death. It is just so beautiful and amazing!!
I miss Guadalupe. I can’t
believe I can’t hug her or rub her little hunch back or sing a hymn with her. I
want so bad for her to be back so I can go see her and Peluchin tomorrow like
normal. But I can’t… and that is ok. I know right now while I write this
Guadalupe is with God, happy and painless in the arms of Christ, her parents,
and other past relatives and friends, laughing and loving and enjoying. I know
someday I will see her again and I can’t wait to give her a huge hug and tell
her what a blessing she was to me in my life on earth.
