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In a world where there are thousands of distractions everywhere we turn, the thought of dying always seems to be the thing that makes us slow down enough to let the noise in the background remain there. In my case, it also made me truly cherish precious time with a loved one.

I am here, writing this, to share the most beautiful experience I recently had with death. It was with someone I loved dearly; I share it in the hope that it can inspire how we are with each other and how we can help each other make the transition when the end ‘on this side’ is near.

One thing that is for sure, is death. I first met it with trepidation; facing the fact of a dear loved one’s passing – in this case, my husband of 22 years, Judge Herbert Walker.

Slowly, over time, I learned that dying can be the most beautiful and endearing experience that people can enter, especially when granted the time.

It is worth repeating: dying can be the most endearing experience that people can enter.

November 2017, Judge and I were told that he had only two weeks to live. We looked at each other: “really??” I turned to the nurse and said, “really?” She answered me with a very serious look; this was clearly a conversation of grave consequence. “Yes,” she said, “you must call family and prepare.”

So much for the ‘only two weeks to live;’ we were gifted with seven months! One day in early June 2018, Judge looked at me and said, “I’m going.” Playfully, I asked, “going where?” Our eyes locked and without a word we both knew. I went on about my routine but paid special attention to him, reminding him that he was about to be 90 years old (he replied with another “really?”).

The seventh day in June, during the day, Judge’s caregiver called me at work to warn me that he was refusing to eat. When I returned home, I went to his bedside to feed him myself. This went on for a few days. I noticed that the portions of what he ate were less and less. Until one day, I looked at him and said I was calling 911. Where he would usually give me a feisty “no,” this time it was a deafening silence. We locked eyes again, knowing the time was near. Judge was in the hospital for three days, then was transferred to Hospice.

He went to Hospice knowing full well what he was facing. He was there eleven days. We shared stares and smiles. I was able to talk and reassure him that he did a good job, that I would be okay, and that our children would be ok. With each passing day, family and friends who visited him talked, sang and joked with him. He was on his journey and surrounded by so much love.

The gardenias were blooming in our garden. I brought a few to him and it made the air smell so good, also bringing memories of our wedding day. On his last day, his birthday, around 6:30 in the evening we visited him. The evening was filled with prayers. Family members and I had cupcakes; he had a cupcake balloon. Around 7pm we sang the Happy Birthday Song. He acknowledged that he knew he made it to ninety.

I got home that evening around 8:30pm; a few hours later, I received the call that Judge had passed.

There was a time Judge and I held hands so hard and tightly. There was a time we had to loosen our grip. There was a time we had to let go. It was the sweetest goodbye that I will always cherish and remember.

Jolyn will be featured at Storytellers New Haven‘s November edition: Monday, November 5, 6:30-7:30 at ConnCAT. Doors open at 6:15.

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