Over the low whir and bubble of an oxygen machine pushing air into her stiffening lungs, Doris Hockaday is having a conversation with a dear friend she didn't know five months ago.

"Gwen's got two girls. What are their names, again? I should know that," says Lane Kaplan, sitting in a rocking chair next to Hockaday's hospital bed, discussing a hoped-for family visit. "I'm excited to meet your other daughters. Will they be coming with their families?"

"I think they will," Hockaday says. "I think they will."

This friendship between Hockaday, a 72-year-old grandmother of eight and great-grandmother of three who retired from banking, and Kaplan, a 34-year-old new mother with a background in public relations and marketing, came at an unlikely time and down an unlikely path.

After years of living with pulmonary fibrosis, Hockaday is under the care of Hospice of Wake County. This allows her to live in the North Raleigh home of her daughter and son-in-law, in a room with walls painted the same buttery shade as her favorite yellow roses, filled with pictures and family mementos.

Kaplan is a volunteer with hospice, spending several hours each week visiting the older woman, which allows Hockaday's daughter Sue Beach the opportunity to run errands, schedule appointments or take a brief break from the responsibilities of caring for her mother.

In this time of light and shadow in the family's life, Kaplan shines brightly. She felt a call to a volunteer commitment that wouldn't appeal to everyone, taking on a role critical to the success of hospice organizations locally and nationwide.

And more than that, her conversations with Hockaday prove that the need to connect is vital, even until our very last days.

Living out our days

The hospice movement got its footing in the United States only in the past 30 years. It is based in the notion that terminally ill patients should live out their lives physically comfortable in a family-focused setting where issues of death and dying are approached with peace of mind.

Patients referred to hospice are usually expected to live six months or less. The hospice concept has broadened to include bereavement services and support groups and other programs to ensure that families receive the help they need when a loved one dies, much of it done with the help of volunteers.

For Hospice of Wake County, that means everything from folks like Kaplan, called family support volunteers, to bereavement volunteers who work with the families up to 13 months after a patient's death -- helping them past the first anniversary of the death.

Nationally, about 400,000 people are hospice volunteers, giving more than 18 million hours of their time annually, according to the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization. To be Medicare-certified, a hospice must have 5 percent of its hours provided by volunteers.

The nature of hospice work, the forming of attachments that will almost certainly be broken and of locking into the emotional lives of people at such a difficult time, holds some people at a distance. According to Sandy Simone, volunteer coordinator for Hospice of Wake County, that's because they don't get the full picture.

In a society where sex and politics are openly discussed, death is a topic many tread timidly around, as if talking about it or being too close to it might somehow invite its attention.

"I have had so many people ask me, 'Isn't that depressing work?' " Simone said. "It isn't depressing. It is so filled with hope. It is so enriching. It is so much more."

So much to talk about

The combination of medication and the decreased flow of oxygen causes Hockaday to tire quickly and sometimes lose her train of thought.

But still they chat, about their daughters, about a special friend of Hockaday's who brings her favorite foods.

Kaplan helps when Hockaday struggles for words, but the conversation is mainly like that between two longtime friends, catching up over their regular cup of tea.

From their earliest meetings, Kaplan said she sensed that although they have different backgrounds, they have very similar priorities and personalities. She admired Hockaday's love for family, work ethic and her feisty spirit. And that affection is returned.

"She is so dear to me. She is so ... " Hockaday's voice trails off.

"You're sweet," Kaplan blows her a kiss.

What volunteers get

Garner resident Wayne Campbell has volunteered with Hospice of Wake County for about four years. At 68 and retired from work for the state and the National Guard, Campbell said he wanted to be involved with a reputable organization that did good work. He hasn't had a family member receive hospice services nor even had much experience with death in his family.

He has worked with about a half-dozen people one-on-one. He recalled one patient, a younger man with brain cancer, whom Campbell particularly enjoyed visiting with. They talked about the man's teaching career even as his memory failed and his speech became garbled.

"It was very difficult for him to talk, but he wanted to talk. He wanted to count for something," Campbell said. "The younger ones are more difficult for me to keep from bringing home. I've got years on this person. Why is there life cut short? I have to work hard not to internalize it. Not to bring it home."

But he remains committed to the work.

"After 68 years, it seems like a very natural thing to do," he said. "To one extent, maybe it's getting me ready for my own death. I think it's getting me to the point where I recognize it's going to happen to me."

Betty Anne Corby, of Cary, has spent more than two decades of a hospice volunteer, working one-on-one with families to help with whatever they needed.

Sometimes that's running errands; sometimes it's helping address the concerns about family members visiting from out of town. Mostly it's sitting with the patient while the caregiver takes a break. She has helped families through the actual moments of death, encouraging soft touches and gentle words. Whenever possible, she attends the memorial services for her patients -- she estimates dozens over the last 24 years.

She fondly recalls a patient she worked with for a year and a half as the woman's health fluctuated. She finds it harder when patients are in her care only for a matter of days because she doesn't get to know them well.

"I just can't believe how much I get out of this sometimes," she said. "I actually get out of it more than I give."

Sharing the loss

For Kaplan, who lives in North Raleigh, it was her family's experience with hospice two years ago that drew her back as a volunteer.

After years of illness, her father was in hospice care for several weeks before his death from lung cancer and kidney failure. While Kaplan knew of the organization by reputation, she learned more firsthand as she helped care for her dad.

Potential volunteers are encouraged to give themselves enough time to grieve after the death of a family member. Kaplan also gave birth to her first child and decided to put her career on hold. Her father's death and daughter's birth reinforced the importance of relationships.

"I really wanted to give back in a way that made a difference in someone's life," she says.

The timing seemed right to take part in the 15 hours of training required of hospice volunteers. Once that was completed in March, her first patient was Hockaday.

"The hardest thing I've ever been through without a doubt is losing my father. It stops your life. It stopped my life for three years," she said. "I know what that was like and that's one of the reasons I wanted to do this. To help with this."

On days she visits with Hockaday, Kaplan usually drops her 9-month-old with grandma before heading to the Beach home. Sue Beach might have a dentist appointment or need to run to the store. Sometimes after sitting upstairs, Kaplan will visit with Sue and her husband, Theo.

"Lane has been wonderful," said Sue Beach, who cares for her mother full time after 20 years in social work. "She's someone I can talk to. She enjoys talking to Mom.

"It's nice to be able to talk to someone who's been a caretaker. Someone who has walked in your shoes."

On a recent afternoon, Hockaday awoke from a nap to find Kaplan sitting beside her.

"You got a little snooze in. You want some tea?" Kaplan asks.

They talk about Hockaday's love of reading and about the Beach family's dog. Kaplan gently adjusts the oxygen tubing when it slipps on the older woman's face.

Hockaday's eyes focus on Kaplan as they count grandchildren together -- four daughters with two children each. Three granddaughters and five grandsons. Hockaday seems reassured, even comforted that she can share this information with someone she knows.

"We've just become good friends," Hockaday says. "I hope you stay on."

"Of course I will," Kaplan says. "You aren't getting rid of me."