
In the Face of Death
Winnie doesn’t know how much time she has left with her sister Kathy; but, in the face of death, Winnie has learned to make the most of her life.
Story by Annie Bostwick and Luka DeMay
Photos by Alyssa Garcia
Winnie Nyman hikes up a small hill when she gets a moment to herself while visitiing her sister Kathy Wong. Winnie watches for wildlife and thinks about “the end.”
Kathy Wong used to be her mother’s primary caregiver. Kathy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in February 2024. Her younger sister, Winnie, then living in Texas, dropped everything to take care of both of them. It’s what she does now.
Kathy, now 74, is no longer lucid. She spends her days thumbing through old cooking magazines in her room at Hopewell House, a residential care facility in Southwest Portland for those nearing death. Winnie tends to her bedside. On most days, their mother, now 94, sits outside the door.
Kathy’s room is warmly lit. The wall of windows behind her bed faces a dense forest of evergreen trees; the sill is lined with flowers and picture frames.
The room is void of beeping sounds or the harsh fluorescent lights common to medical facilities.
The quiet chatter of families in rooms nearby floats through her open door.
Kathy’s stay at Hopewell House is unconventional. She was supposed to be there for only a week, to receive hospice care. Now, she and her family have been there for over a year.
Winnie grew up in Portland with her sisters, Kathy, Doris and Norma. Kathy was the oldest, and the first to move out.
"Growing up with Kathy, she was kind of an enigma to us," Winnie said. "We would see her on holidays, and it was cool to have our big sister around."
Winnie was 16 when Kathy moved back into her childhood home at 28. It was then that the sisters grew closer.
"She always gave us a lot of advice," Winnie said. "Typically unsolicited advice, but she was always very generous."
When Kathy received her cancer diagnosis, she called Winnie to tell her it was terminal.
This wasn’t the first time Winnie was faced with losing a sister. Her older sister, Norma, died six years prior, after battling breast cancer for nearly 40 years.
"[Kathy’s diagnosis] hit me pretty hard," Winnie said. "I was driving, and I just said, 'I gotta call you back.'"
Before Kathy's diagnosis, the three sisters lived across the country from each other — Kathy in Portland, Winnie in Texas and Doris in Pennsylvania — but Kathy's diagnosis has brought the family back to the city they grew up in.
The initial prognosis gave her three to five years to live. By the time Winnie put her life on pause and arrived to care for her sister, Kathy's health had quickly declined.
Kathy Wong, 74, holds the hands of her younger sisters, Winnie Nyman, 62 and Doris Lane, 65. She stays in the Cedar Room at the Hopewell House in Portland Ore., with personal photos and memorabilia surrounding her.
Kathy had been receiving hospice care in her family home for almost a month when she had an episode that left her unconscious. She has experienced dementia since then.
Pancreatic cancer is difficult to treat. The American Cancer Society estimates that 67,400 people will be diagnosed this year, and 51,980 people will die from it.
"It really became clear, when talking to the doctors, that she was not healthy enough to survive," Winnie said. "So she decided that she was ready to go on hospice and forgo any type of treatment."
Kathy wasn’t the same after her episode.
“It’s like she's there, but she's not really there,” Doris said.
Winnie has been responsible for decisions regarding her sister and mother's care. She knew that her family needed more support, and soon, Kathy was living at Hopewell House.
Kathy had experienced the death of a dear friend at Hopewell House. The house aims to deinstitutionalize people's end-of-life experiences by providing care and comfort in a home-like environment.
“She made it real clear that when the time came,” Winnie said. “This is where she wanted to be.”
Before the 20th century, Americans nearing the end of their lives would die in their homes, surrounded by family. In the 1950s, as more terminally ill patients spent their final days in hospitals rather than in their homes, American society experienced an institutional shift.
"We lost it in those years that we stopped having people die at home in parlors and started having them die in hospitals.” Claire Turner, a regular volunteer at Hopewell House, said. “The last decades have been about acknowledging and learning and coming to understand that the body knows how to die. We don't have to be afraid."
Their days at Hopewell House have allowed the sisters to be intentional with the time they have left with each other. "To address death as a natural part of life," Claire said. "We are given opportunities to celebrate a life lived while our loved ones are still alive."
When coming back to Portland last year, Winnie had not expected to put her life in Texas on hold for so long, but she never questioned taking care of her sister. “I never want Kathy to ever feel alone,” Winnie said.
Winnie’s husband takes care of their two elderly cats at her home in Texas. Meanwhile, Winnie manages her sister’s care and makes plans for her mother’s future care, while helping her daughter prepare for her upcoming wedding from afar. "There are a lot of unknowns at this point."
Winnie knows that Kathy’s goodbye has been longer than most Hopewell residents.
“I think my mind works in terms of analogies, right? We've been here a long time, and we’ve seen dozens of families come and go,” Winnie said. “It's almost like you're going on this roller coaster ride. It's up and down, up and down, and then you get to the end of the ride, everybody else is getting off, but you're going for another round."
When Kathy arrived at Hopewell House, she picked out a handmade light green and pink quilt from an array offered to all residents. She will keep the quilt with her — sometimes spread across her bed, sometimes folded neatly nearby — until she dies.
Then, her sisters and mother will follow her out of the house in a walkout ceremony. Staff, volunteers and visitors will lay flower petals on her as she leaves Hopewell House for the last time. Volunteers will then fold the petals into the quilt before opening it up — allowing the petals to be carried away by the wind. The quilt will then be given to her family.
"There is beauty in saying goodbye," Winnie said. "To just kind of share that grief with everybody."
Winnie and Doris participate in as many walkouts as they can.
“You know — my secret wish was I thought when she retired, and I retired, we'd go traveling together. We could be the two old ladies going together, traveling the world, and now that’s never going to happen,” Doris said.
“I think there's a lot in the world I don't wanna put on the back burner anymore,” Winnie said.
At Hopewell House, Winnie clears her head by walking up a short path to a bench surrounded by trees. She looks for owls in the dense green branches, thinking about Kathy's life and what will come after her death.
Throughout her life, Kathy was an avid reader and a fan of cooking shows and magazines. She had a passion for recipes and learning about cooking, but never really cooked. "It was her thing," Winnie said.
Kathy never married or had kids of her own, but her sisters often reminisce on her tenderness as an aunt — always doting on her nieces and nephews.
“She has two close friends,” Doris said. “They still come and visit her.”
Mementos from Kathy's life decorate her room at Hopewell House, and she frequently wears knit hats made by her friends. A collage of notes and pictures are taped on her wall; a save-the-date for Winnie's daughter's wedding in September hangs there too.
The windowsill is lined with family photos. A frame of Kathy, Winnie, Doris and Norma when they were young is tucked among them.
Kathy will be cremated and, eventually, Winnie and Doris will spread the ashes of their two older sisters along the Oregon Coast.
“I think they would have loved that,” Winnie said. “They relied on each other.”
Each morning, Winnie walks through the front doors with her mother and Doris. "My mom's very strong-willed, but this will definitely break her heart," Winnie said. “To lose two daughters, that's really tough.”
She scribbles their names on a sign-in sheet filled with the signatures of other visitors. She greets staff as she walks through the sunlit corridor that leads to Kathy's room.
Once in her room, Winnie watches cooking shows with Kathy, while remaining attentive to her needs. Doris knits beside them, always ready to help, while their mother naps on a small couch in the corner of Kathy’s room.
“I do want to get back to my life, but not at the expense of shortening Kathy’s,” Winnie said.
For now, Kathy spends her days tearing pages out of old cooking magazines — recipes that her sisters know she will never make.
A knitted heart made by a volunteer at Hopewell House given to Kathy Wong as a keepsake to hold her family's love at all times.