Hospice at Its Most Beautiful

      There is nothing more true about the life of each of us than that it will end in our death. Some of us will be fortunate enough to plan that death day. In Oregon we can write an advanced directive, with instructions about resuscitation (or none), at what point in an illness we wish not to undergo further invasive treatments, and, to a certain extent, where we will die.

      The ideal, of course, is to die at home (that's my plan), but in the Rogue Valley the Southern Oregon Friends of Hospice have provided a beautiful alternative for people who either live alone or need more care than they can be given in their homes. Instead of dying in the hospital, with its sterile atmosphere and attempts to keep life going at all costs, some of which are disproportionately high, both financially and emotionally, there is the Holmes Park House. I was invited there last week to see where I might fit into its literary component.

      A literary component? In a place where people have come to die, where residents are admitted with, by estimate, two weeks yet to live? 

      It's a beautiful idea. The library is a pleasant room, with comfortable chairs, soft colors, views onto the gardens, and books on the shelves lining the walls.

Sitting in that room to talk about how I as a writer would fit into the philosophy and care of this hospice house, I thought, yes. I would like, at the end of my life, to sit here for an hour or so, surrounded by books. Books have been a part of my entire life. At home I would be among them. What a pleasure it would be to sit among them still.

      And that is the attitude of the Holmes Park House. What would make a person most comfortable at the end of her life? What would he most enjoy? What would she like to look at from her bed as she lay dying – the Siskiyou Mountains? The gardens? What is his favorite food? The cook will prepare it. Would she like a small group of singers to come to her room? Would he like me to read to him? Would she like the swimming therapist to take her in his arms and float her gently in the water? (Oh, yes!) And while she is floating in the water, would she like him, a former opera singer, to sing to her? 

      The Holmes Park House was the mansion of Harry Holmes, of Medford's Harry and David. In 1939 Harry hired Paul R. Williams, a prominent African-American architect from L.A., to build a 5500-square-foot house with five bedrooms and 6 1/2 bathrooms on South Modoc Drive in Medford.

      When the Southern Oregon Friends of Hospice bought the house, they had an architecturally compatible addition built, adding 5,723 square feet with eight private rooms, each with a patio or small balcony. Today the Holmes Park House is a 12-bed, stand-alone, residential care facility dedicated to hospice and comfort care.

      It is a beautiful place to die. The house and grounds are beautiful, with the soothing atmosphere of grass and trees, the uplifting colors of flowers, the views over the park and into the distant mountains. Residents are treated with respect. To the staff, who move with the smoothness and grace of the not-overworked, each is an individual with a particular personality, with the same kinds of desires he or she had during life. Being there, I wanted to be a part of that important and beautiful aspect of life, the easing into death. I decided to be a volunteer at the Holmes Park House, to read to residents in their rooms, if they like, or to give readings to the more mobile residents and their families or to staff and volunteers. It will be my pleasure to provide a moment of happiness through books with a person at the far end of life and those who care so gently and lovingly for them.