

By Camille Mc Milan Rambharat
What would your death look like?
That’s the question asked by the palliative coordinator on the first day of training as a palliative care volunteer. The question was put to all 20 of us and as we went around the room listening to people’s answers, I dreaded having to speak on this as they got closer to me. To be honest, part of me wanted to excuse myself and leave.
I mean, wait, what? You’re asking me to think about my death and what it should look like? A healthy person? Two seats before it’s my turn and I can feel my anxiety rising. Maybe I’ll pass out and it would be a great distraction not to have to face my own mortality. Better yet! Maybe I’ll die–right here, right now, and leave it to my family to deal with that little “what would you like your death to look like?” question. Then I remembered the second part of that unusual question: “your children and other family members get to choose what their death would look like”.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the coordinator called my name: “Camille, what would you want your death to look like?”
Me: I don’t know. That would be up to my family. They’re aware that I want to be cremated (totally against my religious belief) and it’s up to them what they want to do with the ashes….as I’ll be long gone.
However, it was more than. It was do I want to live my final days at home or a care home? What if I’m unable to make decisions for myself? Who would be my spokesperson? Should I remain on a ventilator? Do they revive me or pull the plug? What happens if my husband dies before me–which of our three children has the right to speak on my behalf, as family members usually have differences of opinions etc.
I’ve come to terms with planning for my own death as the final act of love for my husband and three children. After every three hours of training, I couldn’t wait to get home to have these discussions with my husband Clarence who is not shy about death. Still, I needed to ask, “What do you want your death to look like?” We have different views on what our deaths would look like and we’re respectful to them.
In the past, I’ve written about the importance of having a Last Will. But this goes beyond taking care of our loved ones with material possessions after our deaths. This is taking care of our own death. By addressing our mortality head-on and establishing a comprehensive plan, we can ensure that our final wishes are respected, and our loved ones are supported during what can be a challenging time of grief and transition.
At the end of my training, I’ve come to accept that it’s an important conversation to have with our loved ones about end-of-life planning. Reflecting on what our deaths might look like can be daunting, but it’s a crucial step in ensuring our wishes are honoured and our loved ones are supported. As for me, my death would ideally be peaceful, surrounded by loved ones, with my end-of-life preferences clearly communicated and respected be it at home, hospital, or in palliative care.
My question to you is: What would your death look like?
To be continued- Part 2: What got me here?