Tucked into a corner of Grace Cottage Hospital is a room with a quilt-covered bed, some comfortable chairs and a garden view. For the past 12 years, nurse Patricia Reardon has cared for patients in this room knowing they will never get well and they will never go home.
They come here to die and Reardon helps the do so with peace and dignity.
"Dying is a part of living and nurses deal with both aspects," says Reardon, who has been a nurse for more than three decades.
The hospice program at Grace Cottage is based on the idea that what people who are facing death need most is not medical wizardry or intrusive technology, but all the things that make life worth living: Reminiscing with family and friends, sitting on the porch with your dog, eating a few spoonfuls of your favorite ice cream, and being free from pain.
To see that those things happen, the hospice room has an adjoining space set up with a sofa bed, baby's crib, microwave, television set and stereo system. There is also a porch with rocking chairs and a frequently visited bird feeder. Family and friends can stay to the very end.
Not only do the nurses see to the needs of the patients, says Reardon, but they also care for those who will be left behind.
"The staff is right there with them," she says.
According to Reardon, family and friends often need an explanation of what is physically happening to the patient or need suggestions about how to talk to someone in the last hours of life.
She recommends to loved ones that they tell the patient that it's okay to let go, that they, in essence, have permission to die. For the most part, the advise is well-received and seems to put people at ease.
But not always.
Reardon recalls a teenage girl whose still-young mother moved into the hospice room. In response to the advice that she tell her mother that it was OK to die, the grieving girl said, "But it's not okay."
So Reardon changed tack and told her that if she couldn't say goodbye that her mother would understand, that what was okay was her need to cling desperately to the mother she loved.
"You don't make judgements about anyone and how they deal with death," says Reardon, adding that there is no one formula for how people cope with the loss of a loved one.
In addition to a supportive staff, the family hospice room is stocked with a library on death and mourning, as well as a Qur'an, Bible and Torah. There is a tape recorder available to capture stories told for the last time and supplies at the ready to make scrap books and photo albums.
And when someone needs a few moments of reprieve, there is the Mollie Beattie garden.
A native of Grafton, Beattie was the first female commissioner of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, a position she held from 1993 to 1996.
In the mid-1990s, she was diagnosed with brain cancer and when it was clear that her disease was beyond the realm of the treatable, she checked herself out of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Md., and came to Grace Cottage to die.
Just 49 years old, Beattie spent her last moments surrounded by family and friends, as well as her beloved dog, Dozer.
In her memory, funds were donated by those close to her and with the help of volunteers a woodland garden installed. It is there for the express purpose of providing respite for those losing a loved one.
And for the patient who doesn't have anyone left to keep vigil with them, the nurses and staff step up to the plate.
"Nobody is going to die here alone," says Reardon.
Despite her 32 years of nursing, watching someone die and seeing families suffer can take its toll. To keep their spirits up, Reardon says that staff of about 20 nurses look out for each other.
"Our support system is each other. Sometimes we just have to sit down and cry together or laugh together. Whatever it takes," she says. Reardon also credits the doctors at Grace Cottage for creating an environment of support.
No matter how saddened a death may leave her, day after day Reardon returns to Grace Cottage and does what nurses do best: Care for those in need.
"I wouldn't trade it for anything," she says.