When my friend announced he was terminally ill, he guessed that he had 3-6 months left. To simplify sharing this story, let’s call him Frank. Not long after, I was asked to visit him in the hospital for a final goodbye.

I feel unsettled in hospitals. They are places where people seem to lose their freedom and, often, their lives. In some hospitals I’ve visited, the medical staff told patients they were their advocates but demanded strict obedience to every command.

As for the hospital Frank was in, I wasn’t there long enough to learn its disposition.

I walked into Frank’s room, where he was surrounded by people praying for him. He wasn’t conscious, so I considered leaving. A friendly pastor stepped beside me and gently shared that Frank had asked me to be present when he “transitioned to heaven.”

One praying woman paused as if listening to a spiritual cue and invited everyone to place their hand on Frank and pray for his transition. I wanted to run but lifted my hand toward him and froze. My eyes landed on his dried-out, bare feet poking out from the covers. His toenails were extraordinarily long and curled — a mangled mess.

Why hadn’t the doctor or nurse cut them? What about one of his friends? Would I have helped if he had asked?

I looked around the room and realized everyone knew Frank better than I did. They were deeply connected to him and fulfilled his final requests. I admired their passion and dedication to supporting him, yet I felt out of place. I had come to offer encouragement, but all I could truly offer was my presence. It was humbling, and I felt inadequate.

My mind wandered as I contemplated how the various personal connections in the room worked. As a storyteller who needs to connect with his audience, I wanted to determine what brought these unlikely friends together.

The most significant connection point I saw was a generous supply of empathy.

Empathy Based Connections

Empathy is an understanding that reaches beyond words, where you connect with emotions beyond your own experience. The various levels of empathy in the room were based on each of their stories with Frank.

But empathy isn’t merely an emotional response; it’s a neurochemical reaction.

Neuroscientist Paul Zak’s research shows that emotionally rich narratives release oxytocin, sometimes called the “empathy hormone.” This chemical reaction fosters trust, compassion, and even altruism — qualities that bring people together in powerful ways.

In his studies, Zak found that participants who engaged with powerful, emotional stories were more likely to donate time or money afterward. This demonstrates how story-driven empathy inspires action. When experienced deeply, empathy calls us to connect and care.

Story Transportation

As a storyteller, I’ve often considered the role of empathy in connecting with audiences. One fundamental storytelling principle is known as “transportation.” When a narrative draws in a listener, their mind becomes “transported” into the story, aligning with the storyteller’s emotions and perspectives. This neural coupling creates a shared experience, making it easier for the audience to feel the feelings as if they were their own.

Reflecting on my relationship with Frank, I remembered how he had confided in me during his divorce. We bonded over his struggles, and I offered him practical advice, drawing from my nine years co-leading a Divorce Care program. Together, we navigated the emotional terrain of recovery, with me sharing stories of resilience that he absorbed and later used to help others facing similar heartaches.

Storytelling is a bridge that allows us to share vulnerability and hope.

Narrative Medicine

In the hospital room, I saw narrative medicine in action. Studies from St. Jude Research indicate that when medical practitioners engage with patients through storytelling, they see beyond the symptoms and connect with the human experience of suffering and resilience. This approach, known as narrative medicine, creates a shared understanding that transforms clinical interactions. By sharing personal stories, caregivers and patients form bonds beyond clinical diagnoses.

Just as I had shared recovery stories with Frank during our talks, he had, in turn, shared his experiences with others, touching lives and fostering resilience. Storytelling wasn’t merely a tool for understanding; it became a way for him to build empathy and create meaningful connections, and the people in this room were examples.

As the prayer group’s voices grew louder, I was pulled back into the moment. Frank’s friends smiled and laughed, confident he was transitioning. I looked at him one last time, whispering quiet words of gratitude for his life and how he’d impacted others.

The Transition

Frank was propped up by pillows like someone reading a book in bed. He looked like he was watching his friends cheer him on.

Then Frank slumped, and the heart monitor flatlined. No alarms sounded; he had signed a “Do Not Resuscitate” form. His friends reached for their coats, chatting about what a wonderful person he was. I stood quietly, processing the moment as they walked down the hallway. Somehow, Frank wanted me present despite my limited role in his life.

Suddenly, Frank’s body moved as though leaning forward to look at me. Startled, I let out a loud gasp. The pastor quickly stepped beside me and explained that sometimes the body releases gases or twitches after death, causing unexpected movements.

He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, reminding me of the difference my presence made in Frank’s life. He encouraged me to continue sharing stories, for they had the power to heal and inspire.

As the nurses came to disconnect the medical equipment, I whispered, “Goodbye, my friend.” At that moment, my perspective on hospitals shifted. They no longer seemed like cold places governed by strict authority. Instead, they felt like spaces where loved ones had one final opportunity to express their care, remember a few stories, and share farewells.

The Timeless Practice of Storytelling

I realized that storytelling is a timeless practice with a profound purpose. It draws people together, creating shared moments of understanding that transcend individual experiences. Through storytelling, we build communities of listeners prepared to engage in compassionate action.

One of the greatest gifts my father gave me was the ability to share stories from the heart. I’ve seen how stories can touch the lives of others, leaving a lasting impact that continues through generations.

I encourage you to find opportunities to share your stories. Doing so will build enduring connections and create a legacy of empathy and compassion.

Copyright © 2024 by CJ Powers