Sr. Maria Gabriella Nahak, originally from Timor, has served as a chaplain in a Caritas Home for the elderly in Berlin since 2001. In her ministry, she reflects on the deep emotional experiences and connections she forms with the elderly during their final phase of life.
As a chaplain, my role is to accompany elderly people through the last stage of their lives. This work has opened my heart to the vulnerability of those facing death, especially those who are alone. In my culture, no one dies alone; someone is always there, offering comfort and prayers. Witnessing the isolation that many experience in this home makes my heart ache. While the nurses care for their physical needs, I do my best to stay with them, offering my presence and prayers. I believe that being there for someone in their final moments is one of the greatest acts of love.
It is especially difficult for me when someone is near death and their family cannot be there. I often think of a lady I cared for who was over 90 years old. On a Sunday, I sat with her, talked to her, and helped her with her meal. She still had a good appetite, and I was glad I could spend time with her. The next day, I learned she had passed away during the night. It felt so sudden. I was sad that I couldn’t say a final farewell. These moments remind me how fleeting life is, and how important it is to give our time and attention to those who need it most.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned from the elderly is their openness. Many of them suffer from dementia, but despite that, they often express themselves with such honesty. I remember one woman who told me directly during a conversation, “Sister, I don’t believe in God. I have nothing to do with faith, but I respect you.” She explained that while she had learned about faith from her grandmother and respected her parents’ beliefs, she herself didn’t believe. I appreciated her honesty and respected her perspective. I reassured her that it wasn’t a problem if she didn’t want to pray—her life was her own, and she had the right to make her own choices. That conversation stays with me, as it was a reminder that my role isn’t to force faith upon anyone but to be a compassionate presence, wherever someone may be in their journey.
I also fondly remember Mrs. M., a lovely woman who had two devoted sons who visited her regularly. I would often join them during their visits, and we would share laughter together. Mrs. M. had such a joyful spirit. We danced together whenever there was music, and I could see how much joy it brought her. As her health declined, her sons were by her side, caring for her tenderly. The younger son, in particular, was very attentive. When she passed, he placed 30 red roses in front of her door and laid a photo of her husband on her chest, folding her hands around it. He then asked me to place a rose beside her. It was such a moving moment. His love and devotion to his mother made her farewell a beautiful one, and I often reflect on that memory with gratitude.
One of the things I hear most from the elderly is their desire to die quickly. Many of them feel weary and are ready for peace. They often say to me, “Sister, I just want to die quickly.” I try to bring lightness into these conversations. I tell them, with a smile, that heaven is like the old folks’ home—it has a waiting list, and they’ll have to wait patiently until it’s their turn. We always end up laughing together, which helps ease the tension of such a heavy topic. These moments of shared laughter bring comfort, and it’s an honor to walk with them during this time.
This ministry is about more than just providing social or emotional support. It’s about being present, offering compassion, and recognizing the dignity in every individual, especially as they face life’s end. I’ve been blessed to receive so much from the elderly I serve. They’ve taught me about patience, honesty, and how to approach death with both humility and grace. My hope is that through this ministry, I can continue to learn and give back as much as I receive.
For me, it’s not only about helping people prepare for death; it’s about reminding them that they are loved, even in their final moments. Each day I spend with the elderly is a reminder of the sacredness of life, and I am deeply grateful to be part of their journey.
Sr. Maria Gabriella Nahak – Province of Germany
