The Rosary

I stood there at her bedside seeing the white rosary clasped in her small thin hands. In my church, we don’t have objects such as a rosary as symbols of our faith. Perhaps the Book of Common Prayer comes closest to a rosary as it’s ever present. In the cathedral where I serve, we seldom use the actual books as our services are printed each week for worship along with our hymns. Everything one would need for service is in one’s hand along with instructions as to standing and sitting ease for the many visitors each week. Still, having a rosary in my hand would be wonderful.

As I stood next to her bed, I watched her breathing slow down and become shallow; tangible evidence that her body was dying. On my late evening run, my thoughts were of where one “goes” at death. Perhaps one stays around those loved in life or perhaps one goes. My childhood visions of death, rising souls that are ghostlike but where does that essence of humanness go? As I settled into a chair, I touched her cool hand and touched the white rosary. I always sit with patients who have no family as they become my family. It is my honor as a physician to do so.

She wasn’t even my patient though I did serve in a consulting role in her care. I looked in on her only to be told by the nurse that “they” decided to do nothing. Well, I never decide to “do nothing” because there is always “something” to be done in patient care. I guess, I needed to care for this patient thus there I sat in a familiar role, caring for one who is dying and would die.

When I saw the rosary, I questioned how many times she had said the rosary. I wondered if the rosary brought comfort to this elegant woman. I wondered what the moment of my death would be like? Where would I go? Would I even go? Would I stay? My heart in tears but not sad. My tears are for the people who loved this woman; not here with her in her last hours and minutes of life as we know it. Still, her long fingers, draped by the rosary and her beautiful white hair brushed neatly from her thin face; still the rosary. I made sure that it stayed with her, in her hands as the nurses prepared her body for the morgue.

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