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Nor are parents generally aware of the extent to which abortion has become part of routine obstetric care when it is determined that a baby has a disability. Results of an American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) survey reported that ninety percent of the doctors responding considered abortion because of fatal fetal anomaly a justifiable treatment option, and 63% considered abortion a justifiable treatment option because of a non-fatal anomaly. Using a simple semantic slight of hand abortion becomes a treatment option, and medical professionals effectively disengage from the baby with a prenatal diagnosis, and signal that it is reasonable for the parents to do the same. As a result abortion is often presented as the only option to parents who have already bonded with, loved, and named their baby.

  

Research, however, suggests that many parents are in fact looking for some other option. Most will choose to continue their pregnancy if offered a program of comprehensive support. Parents want something better than abortion. They want someone to affirm the dignity of their child and to accompany them on the lonely and unfamiliar path from the diagnosis to the birth.

 

Several years ago, my older cousin Torch (born at home by the light of a flashlight—or torch) had a seizure that turned out to be the result of lung cancer that had gone to his brain. I arranged for him to see various specialists, and we learned that with aggressive treatment of his condition, including three to five hospital visits a week for chemotherapy, he would live perhaps four months. Ultimately, Torch decided against any treatment and simply took pills for brain swelling. He moved in with me.

 

We spent the next eight months doing a bunch of things that he enjoyed, having fun together like we hadn’t had in decades. We went to Disneyland, his first time. We’d hang out at home. Torch was a sports nut, and he was very happy to watch sports and eat my cooking. He even gained a bit of weight, eating his favorite foods rather than hospital foods. He had no serious pain, and he remained high-spirited. One day, he didn’t wake up. He spent the next three days in a coma-like sleep and then died. The cost of his medical care for those eight months, for the one drug he was taking, was about $20.

 

Torch was no doctor, but he knew he wanted a life of quality, not just quantity. Don’t most of us? If there is a state of the art of end-of-life care, it is this: death with dignity. As for me, my physician has my choices. They were easy to make, as they are for most physicians. There will be no heroics, and I will go gentle into that good night. Like my mentor Charlie. Like my cousin Torch. Like my fellow doctors.

My mother was universally adored -- even her pharmacists and hair stylist paid a call during “shiva” -- for three reasons, as I learned from everyone to whom I spoke: She was always happy; she treated everyone as if they were the most special person in her life; she carried herself with class and dignity. If you want to be widely loved, there’s the recipe.

Below are some of the key lessons I learned from her as she began to embrace  death in the final days and weeks of her life. These are simple (although not  easy) reminders for each of us about how to live life more fully:

 

1. Express Yourself:Say what you have to say, don't hold  things back. As my mom got closer to death, she began to express herself with a  deeper level of authenticity and transparency. We had conversations about things  we'd never talked about and she opened up in ways that were both liberating and  inspiring. Too often in life we hold back, keep secrets, and don't share what's  real -- based on our fear of rejection, judgment, and alienation. Expressing  ourselves is about letting go of our limiting filters and living life "out  loud."

 

2. Forgive:My mom and I come from a long line of grudge  holders. Like me, she could hold a grudge with the best of 'em. I watched as she  began to both consciously and unconsciously let go of her grudges and  resentments, both big and small. It was if she was saying, "Who cares?" When you  only have a few months (or weeks) to live, the idea that "Life's too short,"  becomes more than a bumper sticker or a catch phrase, it's a reality. And, with  this reality, the natural thing for us to do is to forgive those around us, and  ourselves.

 

3. Live With Passion: Going for it, being bold, and living  our lives with a genuine sense of passion is so important. However, it's easy to  get caught up in our concerns or to worry what other people will think about us.  My mom, who was a pretty passionate woman throughout her life, began to live  with a deeper level of passion, even as her body was deteriorating. In her final  days and weeks, she engaged everyone in conversation, talked about what she was  passionate about, shared grandiose ideas, and let go of many of her concerns  about the opinions of others. It was amazing and such a great model and reminder  of the importance of passion.

 

4. Acknowledge Others:At one point about a month or so  before my mom died she said to me, "It's so important to appreciate people ... I  don't know why I haven't done more of that in my life." Even in the midst of all  she was going through and dealing with (pain, discomfort, medication, treatment,  and the reality that her life was coming to an end), she went out of her way to  let people know what she appreciated about them -- and people shared their  appreciation with her as well. My friend Janae set up a "joy line" for people to  call and leave voice messages for my mom in her final days. We got close to 50  of the most beautiful messages, all expressing love and appreciation for my mom  -- most of which we were able to play for her before she passed away.  Appreciation is the greatest gift we can give to others - and, we don't have to  wait until we're dying to do it or until someone else is dying to let them  know!

 

5. Surrender:While my mom clearly wasn't happy about dying,  didn't want to leave us or her granddaughters, and felt like she had more to do  on this earth, something happened about a month and a half before she died that  was truly remarkable -- she surrendered. For my mom, who had a very strong will  and was a "fighter" by nature, this probably wasn't easy. However, watching her  surrender to what was happening and embrace the process of dying was truly  inspirational and life-altering for those of us around her and for her as well.  So much of the beauty, healing, and transformation that occurred for her and for  us during her dying process was a function of surrendering. Surrendering isn't  about giving up, giving in, or selling out, it's about making peace what is and  choosing to embrace life (and in this case death) as it shows up. Our ability  (or inability) to surrender in life is directly related to the amount of peace  and fulfillment we experience.

Colton Burpo, who almost died at age four when his appendix burst, says he met his dead sister in Heaven and “sat on Jesus’ lap.” The remarkable thing is, Colton’s parents, Todd and Sonya, had never told him about his sister, who Sonya miscarried a year before Colton’s birth. They were astonished by his story, as are we! But, are his visions real or made up in his dreams? 

 

After his appendix burst and undergoing two emergency surgeries, Colton, of Imperial, Nebraska, was hanging on by a thread. While his parents watched his procedure from the viewing room, their son was up in Heaven, meeting his unborn sister and looking down at them praying.

Goldberg's mother, Emma Johnson, passed away from complications following a  stroke on Aug. 28. The loss is difficult to get used to.

"I used to talk  to her every day," says The View co-host. "I'm still in the habit of  talking to her, you know, but I just wish she were here with me."  <!-- jump -->

What types of things did Goldberg and her mother talk  about? "Every day she'd say, 'I'm proud of you,' " recalls Goldberg. "And I  would respond, 'I'm proud of you.' I was very lucky to have her as a  mother."

"I know she had a great life," continues Goldberg, "so I can't be too sad. She  had a great time of it. But of course I'm sad because I really miss her."  

Despite her mourning, Goldberg has found a silver lining. "We didn't  leave anything unsaid," she explains.

  To live without Ryan is awful. I don’t want anyone to get the idea that we are being particularly saintly about it. Knowing that something is good for you and your soul and living with it are two different things. Many nice things could be said about David, the children and I, but saint is not the word that jumps to mind. Really. So we struggle mightily with grief, confusion and anger. We gasp when the pain stabs us, when a memory overcomes or a memento crosses our path. The tidal wave that is grief leaves us breathless and weary. However, we are Catholic and we know that our suffering is not in vain, we have the ultimate example of that in the Passion and Death of Christ. So in my very imperfect way I try to follow the example of Mary and trust my God, who I know loves me. Who has a plan for my family that will reunite us all in heaven and give us eternity to spend loving.

But while age at death is the whole story for outsiders, it is only half the story for a person's loved ones. One does not miss a loved one less because he or she died at 89. My mind is entirely at peace with my mother's death at 89, nearly all of those years lived in good health, and the last 69 in wedded bliss to my father, who is alive and well. But I do not miss her one whit less because she was 89. Indeed, one might argue that having lived to age 61, I have had that much longer a period of time to get used to having — and very much enjoying — my mother in my life. My mind is deeply grateful; but it also knows that my mother is gone forever.

From my late teens onward, the relationship between my mother and me improved steadily. As the years progressed, I enjoyed her more and, yes, loved her more. Unless either an adult child or a parent has serious psychological issues, I am convinced that what I experienced is quite common. There is an enormous amount of luck — good and bad — in life; and one of the greatest pieces of good luck for a parent (and child, for that matter) is for parents and children to have the time to work things out.

Signs of Imminent Death

 

Eyes have glassy fixed stare with large pupils
  Pasty grey, or blue greyish colour present especially on lips, hands   and feet
  Hands and feet can be cold
  Jaw open, breathing through mouth very rapid or very slow (often with   rattle) with pauses of 20-50 seconds between breaths
  Unresponsive to voice or pain

 

It is most important not to do or say anything that   might disturb or anger the person, like speaking abruptly, arguing,   crying, rough handling; maintain a peaceful atmosphere with people praying,   meditating or chanting according to the dying person's wishes or as   instructed by their spiritual guide/teacher. Any supporters can generate   limitless universal or devotion in their hearts and the wish for the   dying person to be released from suffering with this love or devotion/faith   and become unified with love, with god or with their source of inspiration   and virtue.