Its My Life Box, Memphis, TN (2025)

12/17/2025

Such an important topic - IMPORTANT to get it right for a GOOD DEATH🙏🏻💀

One of the places I meet the most resistance at the end of life is around the use of medications to relieve symptoms such as pain, agitation, or delirium. The medications I am referring to, are often morphine, lorazepam, or haloperidol, which are commonly included in the comfort or relief kit provided when someone begins hospice care. What families struggle with most is the fear that these medications may cause their person to sleep more, or become deeply sedated, and in doing so, take away the ability to have conversation.

I understand that fear. Communication at the end of life is sacred. People hold tightly to the hope of one more chance to hear their voice. I have sat at the bedside of someone I love, longing for one more word, knowing it wasn’t going to come. I struggle with this too. Wanting to keep someone as awake and cognitively present as possible comes from love.

What I have learned, though, is that when someone is dying and suffering, it can keep them from leaning into the dying process with the peace they deserve. Medications are not something I push or force. I don’t believe in taking choice away, and I never want families to carry regret or guilt into their grief. But I do believe deeply in education and support, and in helping families make peace with the fact that sometimes medication is exactly what allows suffering to soften.

What I often say in these moments is this: they might not be able to respond to you, but they can hear you. You may have already heard their last words, but they can still hear yours. I believe this with every ounce of my being. I witnessed it with my own brother who was non-responsive in the ICU. After sitting at his bedside for many days, saying all the things I had left unsaid over the years, apologizing again and again, he woke the day before he died and his last words to me were, “I’m sorry too.” He heard me.

Medications at the end of life are not what end someone’s life, their illness and the disease process do that. These medications simply allow them to die with more peace, more ease, and less suffering, and I truly believe that is something every human being deserves.

I am not here to convince you, I am here to sit with you. I want you to feel heard, and I want you to be able to make peace with a decision I know can feel heavy and complicated. I don’t want you to carry something forward that turns into an ache, wondering if you did the right thing, or if you waited too long.

My hope is to educate and support you in a way that allows you to make peace with this choice, to give medication, if it’s needed, without hesitation, and to trust that your presence matters, that your words are heard, that they are felt, and that they wrap gently around the person you love, offering comfort, safety, and permission to let go.

Be present. Speak your heart.
Let your love hold them, and let them go.
Trust that your care, your words, your presence, wraps them in the gentlest comfort. And know that in this act of love, you have done exactly what was needed.

xo
Gabby

You can find this blog here:
https://www.thehospiceheart.net/post/medications-at-the-end-of-life-a-gentle-conversation

You might find my book “End of Life Tips” helpful. It is a guide for those at the bedside to be prepared for what could and might happen when someone is dying.
https://www.amazon.com/Life-Tips-Gabrielle-Elise-Jimenez/dp/B0C9G8PZZ5/ref=pd_aw_sim_m_sccl_2_4/130-2232800-4346236?

12/17/2025

“Aging, according to this research, isn’t a cause of death. It’s a condition that makes specific failures more likely. That’s a subtler, less cute story. It’s also harder to sell. But if scientists want to extend human life in meaningful ways, they may need to stop chasing immortality and start getting better at preventing the exact things that actually end it.”

"Dying of old age" sounds nice, right? Well, when scientists look at what really happened through autopsies, that sweet story unravels fast.

12/05/2025

Bravo 👏🏻🙌🏻

Linda Hamilton, 69, first broke out on the big screen in the 1984 sci-fi classic “Terminator.” Now, she’s headed back to that decade for her latest role as scientist Dr. Kay on “Stranger Things,” which is in its fifth and final season on Netflix.

A longtime fan of the show, the actress admits she was a bit intimidated at first to join the cast, saying, “When they invited me, I thought, 'Oh, they’re wrong. No, no, no...' There was a funny little disconnect for a minute. And then I was like, ‘Yippee!’”

Even with a busy schedule, she says she’s found "a great balance between work and life” in her later years. Part of that confidence and ease comes from not letting anything define her — including her age. “I don’t chase beauty, and I don’t chase longevity particularly,” she says. “I’m fully planted in the moment, but that doesn’t mean you don’t try to be healthy.”

Visit the link in the comments to read Hamilton's full interview with AARP's Movies for Grownups.

11/30/2025

Thank you Jeff Stillwell🙏🏻🩶🤍

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/14PAz6Af8h3/?mibextid=wwXIfr

It doesn’t happen all at once.
There’s no announcement, no warning, no moment where life taps you on the shoulder and tells you:

“Look closely… things are changing.”

It happens quietly.

You’re busy — working, raising kids, paying bills, rushing through days that feel too short.
And then one afternoon, you go home to visit your parents…
and something soft inside you shifts.

You notice the small things first:

Your father gets up from the couch a little slower.
Your mother asks you to repeat something she once would’ve heard clearly.
The house feels the same —
but the people inside are aging gently, silently.

You notice they hold the railing when they go downstairs.
They double-check the locks before bed.
They sit more than they stand.
They nap more.
They walk a little closer together.

You realize things you never thought about before:

Who changes the lightbulbs now?
Who carries the heavy groceries?
Who helps them understand the new phone they’re afraid to break?

And suddenly, the roles you’ve always known start shifting.

The hands that raised you
now tremble when pouring tea.
The voices that soothed you
now need reassurance themselves.
The people who once felt invincible
now feel beautifully, heartbreakingly human.

You begin to understand something deeper:

Growing older isn’t just happening to them —
it’s happening to you, too.

And love starts to look different.

It becomes:

• driving them to appointments
• fixing things they didn’t want to ask help for
• listening to stories you’ve already heard
• staying a little longer instead of rushing out
• calling even when you’re tired
• appreciating all the little sacrifices you once overlooked

Because now you finally see it:

Your parents aren’t just aging.
They’re winding down a chapter they spent decades writing —
a chapter filled with you.

And the quiet truth is this:

They won’t say it out loud,
but they’re hoping you’ll walk through their door a little more often.

Not to fix anything.
Not to bring anything.

Just to be there.

To sit.
To talk.
To laugh.
To listen.
To remind them that they’re still needed…
still valued…
still loved.

One day, you’ll realize these are the visits that matter most.

Because time moves fast.
But moments with aging parents?
Those are the memories that stay soft forever.

11/16/2025

⚱️⚰️

Adapting to a Rising Cremation Rate

The latest insights from the National Funeral Directors Association’s 2025 Cremation & Burial Report underscore that cremation isn’t just growing, it’s reshaping our industry. Douglas R. “Dutch” Nie II highlights how firms must adapt services, technology and staffing models now to meet this evolving reality.

Get the details in the comments below.

11/14/2025

Each breath is a blessing🙏🏻♥️

A Letter From María, 83 — A Gentle Reminder That Life Happens Now
my dear friend,
Today I celebrate my 83rd birthday, and there is something I wish someone had whispered to me decades ago — something that time had to teach me slowly.
When you're 60, you still have oceans of living ahead of you.
I didn't realize that back then.
These days, I spend more hours with a book in my hands than a broom.
I sit on the porch and let the breeze tell its stories while the apple trees dance.
And I no longer feel guilty about the weeds growing freely among the roses.
I still work a little... but please, don't give your whole life away to work.
Moments with the people you love are worth more than any paycheck.
Life is not a marathon you're supposed to finish breathless.
It's a gift —
and gifts are meant to be enjoyed, not stored away.
It's strange how sharply everything comes into focus when you realize you can't go back and change the past.
I don't save anything "for later" anymore.
The embroidered napkins, the good china, the crisp new sheets — I use them just for myself, for ordinary days that deserve to feel special.
When I leave the house, I wear whatever makes me feel lovely.
My perfume? I use it whenever I want.
Even a doctor's appointment is special enough now.
The little annoyances — the dirty cup in the sink, the impatient cashier, the dripping tap — they no longer matter.
I simply live.
There is no "later," no "once I have time," no "maybe next week."
If something is meaningful — I do it today.
Every morning I ask myself:
"What would I do differently if I knew tonight would be my last?"
That question changes the texture of the whole day.
If I were running out of time, I'd regret not telling my husband more often how deeply I admired him.
I'd regret the letters I never sent.
So now I call my children more.
I apologize quickly — even if it's something small.
And I tell my friends I love them without waiting for a perfect moment.
I've relearned how to marvel at small things like a child does.
To give genuine compliments.
To say "thank you" from a full heart.
Every day is a gift.
We are not promised tomorrow.
No one owes us anything.
Each breath is a blessing.
And so every morning, I remind myself:
"Today is a special day."
Because every hour, every moment, every breath... is a quiet miracle.
Life may not be the song we expected to dance to —
but as long as the music continues,
we can still move with it.
Be gentle with yourself.
Cherish every second.
And never forget:
The world becomes a little brighter simply because you are here.
With love,
Maria.

Its My Life Box

12/17/2025

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