What can I say to someone who is dying?

I have just given some daffodils to my neighbour. He has been treated with cancer since November, I got to know that when I greeted him for his 81st birthday that month. He and his wife and both the best neighbours you can wish for. He was the first one during our second Christmas in this house to come around and ask me to spell our names to him. One by one, all four of us. It’s all Hungarian names, so quite difficult when cannot be linked it with anything similar.

He had put the effort though. This realisation was the best gift that Christmas.

Today when I knocked with my daffodils, I was so delighted and shocked at the same time when he opened the door. He didn’t look like how I remembered him when we last saw each other in December. His skin has changed, his face has changed. He was avoiding eye contact, but I was so grateful that our gazes met several times regardless. I felt his trust and I felt that I could communicate to him that there was nothing he had to hide. I love him regardless. I do not know how this whole treatment process and knowing that it is unsuccessful feels to him, but I do my best to be compassionate to understand it.

As he talked about what his doctors said, it became clear: this is it. Maybe this was the last time we saw each other. Usually he is open and we even touch, but this time he was withdrawn, just as with the eye contact. I wanted to be understanding, I didn’t know what he felt of course, but it must be hard facing everything in that state.

“I brought you some sunshine.” - handed over the daffodils and pointed out that one of the little buds has eagerly opened to show its bright yellow colour. It held so much meaning to me in that moment.

It was sunshine. It was brave, it was bright, it was bold, no matter how cold it was outside, they feel that there was a reason to shine bright. Whoever cut them didn’t know that they would bring this ray of little joy into the home of our neighbours to brighten up their day, even if just a little. They have brought some sunshine to brighten up that face that has gone grey from the chemo in the last couple of months.

I felt so grateful and I felt more and more accepting and opened me up for flowing with his lead even more.

His wife came back from the shops and was so delighted to see me. She gave me a hug and I was more than happy to return it. It felt the right time to leave them in peace and just said how grateful I was that we saw each other and asked him to take car of himself and left. I had to swallow my tears while talking to them, but I couldn’t hold them back longer and these feelings started washing over me as I carried on walking the dog, who was with me. It was my walk, she just came with me. the perfect company as questions started banging me on the head. Did I say the right things? What do I say to him next time?

Then one simply grabbed me on the throat. I felt that it was squeezing it. That dreadful one… and it released when I whispered it to myself: What do I say to someone who is dying? This is a super sensitive question for several reasons. He is someone who is facing death. He is the one, so how can I best support him?

It is great to ask questions, because the answers can come. Affirmations can arrive, the right ones, so the inner dialogue started and at home I sat down to put this into this form. My intention is to support you if this question is ever relevant to you too.

I encourage myself to be genuinely present and speak from my heart as always. My intention is that whatever I say, may that come through my heart and be meaningful. Silence is okay too. It holds great gifts, I have experienced that several times in different circumstances.

I definitely feel that I want to keep expressing love towards him with simple but powerful words and actions. He is used to that from me and it helps him understand how much he is appreciated, that feels very important in everyday life towards loved ones, so it is super important when I know that this person is going soon.

Back in November, when he told me he had cancer, we chatted casually, he was very positive and open towards his treatment plan and as we chatted casually in his living room, I brought up my favourite memory with him, as it was just so relevant. I told him again about how much spelling out our names with so much care meant to me. It was him, who shortly before our second Christmas in this house came over, knocked the door in his neat outfit as always and told me “Right, sweatheart, how do you spell all your names, because I want to get them right in our card to you.” He stepped into the house that was steaming in cooking that I was doing right then, but he wasn’t bothered or distracted by anything. I spelt our names one by one and he carefully wrote them down and I remember that for the whole time I was trying to process what was happening. He cared.

I thanked him in my Christmas messages and birthday cards often for being such wonderful neighbours, because they are. Their emotional support helped us settle here as a family and he had so much to do with that in the beginning.

Acknowledging his impact on our life therefore is also something very important to highlight for him that I can direct my attention to from worry when communicating with him any time. He knows I will bring daffodils to his wife and him next spring too, wherever he will be. It feels important to offer reassurance about his loved one, it would feel nice to me too, to know that they are taken care of.

I intuitively felt following his lead in our conversation and physical closeness. If we have another chance to talk and he wants to talk about death directly, I will flow with it. If he prefers to focus on life and memories, I will flow with that too, talking about how much joy that little hamster brought us that he found and rescued in their conservatory and I constantly remind myself that sometimes just sitting quietly together, holding hands, or just simply being present is more meaningful than any words.