My mother-in-law has been in hospice care for the past few weeks. I consider it a sacred and holy time in one’s life, and I’m honored to be a part of it. Not everyone gets the opportunity to have an extended time to say goodbye or enjoy the love and vigilant attention from their family.

Last week I was leaving the hospice ward after spending a couple hours alone with my MIL, happy that I could offer some comfort. I probably had a little smile on my face remembering our exchange as I went through the door into the main part of the building. An administrator asked, “How’s everything in there?” I said, “Still dying.” Startled by my response, he said, “That’s a horrible thing to say.” I said, “It is what it is.”

I realized later he may not have had any context because he was new to the facility and probably didn’t associate me with my MIL. And because I was coming out of the memory care ward, which is where the facility also manages their hospice patients, my answer would have seemed a bit crude. I would never have said that about my father-in-law who is an Alzheimer patient in the same place.

A couple days later, I was talking to a friend on the phone who asked me how my MIL was and I told him the same thing. He replied similarly as the first guy, “That’s a horrible way to start a conversation.”

As I pondered the appropriateness of my responses, my first thought was, “Well, they asked.” I understand when people ask how you or another person is, they expect you to say, “fine.” But in the case of my MIL, she isn’t fine. She isn’t getting better. She is in hospice. She is still dying. It is what it is and if you’ve read any of my columns or blogs, you know I’m not one to mince words. There’s not even anything to discuss in a case like hers. No one is waiting for a cure, nor is there hope. She’s old, her body is shutting down. Let’s allow her to do it with grace and dignity.

I’m not being callous or insensitive over the situation. I adore my MIL, she and I are rather close as in-laws go. She’s treated me with kindness and generosity in the couple plus decades I’ve known her. But she’s a God-fearing woman, she’s not afraid to die. I’m not afraid to talk to her about dying. I’ve held her hand, cried my tears over losing her, and prayed for her to have peace during this last phase of her life. It is very sad, indeed. She and my FIL are the end of an era, one I never imagined experiencing when I married her son 25 year ago.

However, as one who believes in God and an afterlife, I don’t think it’s a time of mourning. I feel it’s the responsibility of the living to help the dying navigate death. We need to take their hand both literally and figuratively and walk the journey with them. It’s a lot like giving birth. We know that the baby will come out of the womb, but we don’t know exactly when or how. Dying is the same. We know my MIL is dying, but we don’t know exactly when or how. I pray her last breaths are easy, that she knows she is surrounded by the love of God and family, and she doesn’t suffer in those final moments. She can take as much time as she needs. It’s her right.

But if you ask me how she’s doing, she’s still dying.