Dealing With the Loss of a Resident at Your Facility

We lost you today.

You were one of my favorites, even though we definitely aren't supposed to have favorites. Don't worry, we won't tell anybody and none of the others will ever know. But I know, I feel it in my heart right down to my soul. Walking back in there and not seeing your smiling face is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

 I don't want to talk about it, I'm not ready yet. Please don't bring her up. Please don't tell me about her last moments. Please don't tell me that her family will be cleaning out her room this weekend or that we will have a new resident moving in next Wednesday. Don't tell me! Don't talk about her! I'M NOT READY YET!

The end of life of a loved one is the hardest thing you will ever experience.

Whether you are close and their loss will be like losing a piece of yourself, or there has been much distance between the two of you and their loss will be an end to the possibility of any fix to your broken relationship.

The death of a loved one will produce a myriad of emotions; guilt, anxiety, pain, loss, love, fear, devastation the list is never-ending.

When you lose a resident as a caregiver in a facility you feel a lot of these same emotions, but you aren't really expected or able to feel all those feelings.

You aren't able to sit in your grief because there are so many others who need you.

As a caregiver in a facility, I can take care of my residents for years. There are some that come and go very quickly but many more stay with us for 4,5,6 years or more.

Even with those that are only there a short time, their loss is felt. We remember a laugh or a favorite moment we had with them from time to time and we speak their name.

Those we see every day year after year, those people become family. But yet, they are not our family.

We love them and care for them daily. We laugh with them and hug on them. We are there to experience their moments of joy and we are there to wipe their tears during moments of grief. We pick out their clothes and feed them their meals. We learn what they like and what they don't like, sometimes the hard way. We dance with them and watch movies with them.

We do a lot of the same things we do with our own families at home.

When their end of life is near, we play their favorite music and keep the lights down low. We sit with them and read their favorite stories or simply say a prayer.

Sometimes we just sit quietly and hold their hand.

We sit with them when their families can not(or will not) so they do not have to die alone.

Even right down to their very last day we are a part of them. But when it comes down to it, our part in their life ends the moment they pass.

We are expected to clean them, dress them and get them ready to be taken away.  We are to make them look the best in death as possible so as to soften the blow for their family.

Then we are supposed to move on.

There are many other residents needing our time and care.

The family sets up all of our lost resident's end of life arrangements and usually, at most, we get a copy of their obituary to read through during our next shift.

Meanwhile, our hearts are hurting too.

Do we have that right?

How do we express our love and loss?

How do we walk back into the room they occupied for the last seven years and greet the new lovely face that has now just moved in?

I do believe we have the right to feel the way we do. Not only do I think we have that right but I feel like feeling these feelings so deeply makes us better caregivers.

If we were the type of people who were only in it for the paycheck we would not be nearly as good at our jobs as we are.

So many people I have worked with have hearts bigger than the normal size; hearts made of gold. This is why we chose the job we did.

Not for the money.

One of my favorite sayings is, "this job fills my heart not my pockets."

If you're looking to make big money do not become a CNA.

How we express our love and loss really depends on what works best for each of us individually. 

Luckily most of us have families who understand that although we can't give them any particulars about what happened or who it happened to, today was a hard day and we need a minute or we simply need a hug.

Some of us will add a picture to the picture wall at work that holds all the smiling faces of those that have come before.

Some of us will light a candle or set an extra space at the table for a while after a loss.

Some of us will have conversations with each other and share stories and talk about our favorite memories. This way we can talk about them with others who are feeling the same way we are.

Walking into their old room and seeing a new face can be very hard at first but it is also one of the best healers.

Knowing that this new face needs me, depends on me and counts on me moves me out of my grief. It is time to make new moments of joy for this lovely new addition to our work family.

Although everyone deals with their grief differently, every one of us must find a way to handle it.

Death is part of the line of work we have chosen and in order to continue with this job, we must find a way to move forward. 

Our hearts are heavy with loss but we are ready to make new moments with those who remain.

Please don't talk to me about her. I'm just not ready yet.

 *Dementia is known as "slow death" because it typically has a gradual, insidious onset and progresses through three stages: early, middle, and late. Most people with dementia live for many years or decades, but death can occur at any stage. Some people with dementia die within months, while others live for decades.