Tag: death

The Best Death

It was an honor to write and have this essay published about my friend, Susan, who chose death with dignity and died in May 2025. She had terminal lung cancer and was with us for a year after diagnosis. Her year was full of good times and connections with family and friends: dinners, an in-house concert for her birthday, a weekend at the lake, and hanging out in her yard. During the year, she had a sold-out art show at a local gallery. She continued to make art up to the day she died.

One day while visiting with her, I said, “I want to write an essay titled, My Friend is Dying and I’m Jealous. She giggled and said, “Go for it.” I pitched the essay to Noah Michelson, editor at Huffington Post, whom I’ve worked with before.

He liked the pitch,
“Hi Frances! Always love seeing your name in my inbox, though this time it also comes with grief.

I’m so sorry to hear about Susan but so happy that she’s dying on her own terms.

I think this piece will be infinitely stronger if you write it after she dies. I want to know about how the end was for her — and you. Does it go as she planned / is planning? I’ll want to know how you feel now that she’s gone. I want to know what it’s like to still be here. I want to know if your thoughts on death — especially your own —  have changed. 

Are you up for writing more and coming back to me whenever you’re ready?”

His email brought me to tears. “I want to know how your feel now that she is gone.” Susan will die. We’d had such fun over the year, I kept that reality at bay. But at the same time, I appreciated Noah’s suggestion.

Susan walked me to my car the night she would die. She made a point of asking me to look after her children and grandchildren. After we chatted and hugged, she crossed the street, yelling back to me, “Publish that essay.” “I will and I will send it to you!” Her laughter remains with me.

I later learned from her son that Susan told him she wanted me to be the one to look after them. Wow. Her children and grandchildren have become family, a gift that will keep Susan alive in my heart and theirs.

Here’s the link to the essay: My Friend Told Me She Was Dying. I Told Her I Was Jealous

Thanks as always for reading.

Frances

The Science of Coincidence by Susan Carlson

Faith in Fiction by Susan Carlson
Susan’s art piece in progress when she died

Memories Keep Us in Relationship

Seven weeks ago I wrote about Sophie, the 88 year old woman I cared for and my friend Susan with terminal cancer. Alive then, today they live on in sweet memories.

Sophie, mother of three talented daughters, was a pillar of her community, president of the symphony, choir director, supporter of the arts, and the backbone of the Greek Orthodox Annunciation Church choir, congregation, and food festivals. According to her obituary,

“Her baklava, many would agree, was unrivaled. Among Sophie’s many passions, food probably topped the list. She was an artist in the kitchen. Every meal was prepared with care and consideration. When someone was sick or sad, she showed up with homemade muffins or soup. She threw elegant parties of all sizes and varieties — who didn’t look forward to a Sophie dinner? — that were feasts for the eyes, nose, palate, and belly. She wasn’t showy about it: she simply loved to gather friends and family around a beautifully set table for good conversation, fellowship, and cheer. And she knew that artistically prepared and presented food helped create the magic.”

The neuropathy Sophie suffered from created great pain; she wasn’t able to walk, and one arm was completely immobile. She could stand and scoot her legs some, while I helped her from the chair to the wheelchair and into the restroom. This had become harder and harder, sometimes falling before making it onto the toilet. She’d say, “I’m OK. Are you OK?” Then apologize!

She died peacefully, surrounded by her girls June 18th.

It’s amazing how much you can come to love someone, even when you know them for a short time. I looked forward to Saturdays and Sundays with her and our conversations about the state of our country, books, movies, food, recipes, and a little gossip. Sophie had a team of twelve caregivers. She made each one of us feel appreciated, and we all felt she was a friend. Yesterday at her Greek service, the family reserved a row for Sophie’s Magnificent Team, as we were referred to. Afterwards, a lunch reception was held, feeding those who loved Sophie. Tables were covered in tablecloths she had made throughout the years, and baklava and brownies made by her daughters using Sophie’s recipe were served.

When I became part of her caregiving team, I was impressed by her high-functioning family. Each of her three girls working together to make sure Sophie’s needs were being met. A few weeks ago, her daughters invited the caregiving team for music they performed and dessert. We were sent home with chocolate bars wrapped in a custom-printed label, “Sophie’s Magnificent Team”.

My heart is full of love and awe for Sophie and the family she created. Yes, I wish I could have been the mother she was, and I wish my family had stuck together. But being a witness to Sophie, the grace she possessed, and her family warms my heart, and I feel lucky.

My friend, Susan, died with medical assistance, surrounded by family, on May 28th. There is much to say about her life and death. My essay about her will be published by the Huffington Post in 3-4 months. I’ll share it once it comes out.

It’s true even when someone is gone, there is still a relationship with them. Susan, Sophie, and others I have loved and lost are resurrected with each memory of them.