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death and DYINGVolunteering for Hospice brings a wealth of deep experiences, including opportunitiesfor practice. Two years ago I was asked to visit Mary, who was dyingof bone cancer and suffering from dementia. She lived with her daughter andson-in-law in a quiet, small village home, and her family needed support.Before each visit, I sat in the car and did metta meditation for myself, Mary,those caring for Mary, and all beings. With peaceful steps, I walked to the houseand introduced myself.Mary was a charming woman with great stories of her family and travels.She was intelligent and asked insightful questions about my life and work. Butthen, on most visits, she would get lost in her own mind. Her dementia was atorment. When she felt it coming on, she would often realize what was happeningand comment on losing her mind. As it progressed, she would become fearful ofstrangers breaking into the house and would weep over the death of her very alivedaughter. This was heartbreaking to witness. Although her physical pain was wellunder control, her mind was far from it. Together we took deep breaths and heldhands. This was never quite enough to bring her back to the room.Her family told me that she used to practice as a Catholic, my root tradition.They thought she might like me to pray with her, but didn’t think she knew a lotof prayers herself. When asked, they told me she hadn’t said a rosary in years. Iasked permission to give it a try. With little confidence, they agreed.First I had to find a rosary, which I did—buried in my bedside table. Myparents had had it blessed for me by Pope Pius XII and I’d never had the heartto part with it. Now was its time to shine! Then I had to find a prayer book thatcovered the rosary, since I was more than rusty. One of these was also waitingon a bookshelf. Things were coming together for my experiment.As an interfaith minister, it is my work to find bridges between faith experiences.I thought the rosary was quite similar to the mala. In our tradition, to thebest of my knowledge, the mala beads are used by monks to follow their breath.Our practice centers on the breath, and I wanted to find a way to bring this toMary in a manner that she could understand and apply without introducing aBuddhist concept.In time we were able to effectively use the breath to ease her suffering, withher rosary beads as a sustaining guide. It was like a miracle to see her agitationsettling down and calm taking root. But it wasn’t a miracle at all. It was solidpractice beyond the terminology and labels of traditions. As Mary took her prayerbeads, we paused and followed our breath. In, out. After each short prayer, sofamiliar and comfortable to her, we took another breath. In, out. Steadying.Integrating. Mary found her way back to her true self.When Mary transitioned, I felt a real loss. But in the last months of herlife she was able to be more present and more peaceful thanks to the practiceof mindfulness, the practice she never knew byname. It was the gift of my own practice, that Icould share it and pass it along. Why else arewe alive?Starr DiCiurcio, True Understanding of theSangha, practices with Kingfisher Sangha ofSchenectady and Greenwich, New York. Sheand her husband recently moved to GlensFalls, New York, where she works as aninterfaith minister.Meditatingwith MaryBy Starr DiCiurciophoto by Zachiah Murraythe Mindfulness Bell 39