“When people ask me about my sister, I always smile before I speak,” Brenda Morris-Dadds begins. “Tracy Morris wasn’t just my younger sister—she was my best friend, my constant, the person I talked to several times a day. We did everything together, laughed together, fought like sisters do, and always found our way back to each other. Brenda’s husband loved her as if she were his own sister. She was woven into every part of their lives. “The closeness that the three of us had in those 8 months was just priceless. I was so blessed we could be together those 8 months, 24 hours a day.”
A Life-Changing Day
People often say they remember exactly where they were on 9/11. For most, that date marks a national tragedy. For Tracy’s family, 9/11 carries a second meaning—one that shook their world all over again.
On September 11, 2018, Tracy called saying her stomach hurt and she felt constipated. She didn’t sound sick. She didn’t look sick. But Brenda took her to Anne Arundel just to be safe. When the doctor walked in and quietly shut the door behind him, her heart sank. As a nurse—and having lived through her parents’ hospice journeys—Brenda knew what that silence meant. Tracy knew, too.
The diagnosis: stage 4 pancreatic cancer with metastasis to the liver. No warning. No time to prepare. Just a life split into “before” and “after.”
“She stayed in the hospital for a few days of tests and procedures, and I never left her side. I slept there every night. And in those first hours, one thought repeated in my mind: She’s going to need hospice. And I’m going to make sure she has it,” Brenda said.
Brenda’s family knew hospice well. “I’ve been a hospice nurse for years, inspired by the care my parents received—back when the Barnette Center was just a single room in Centreville. Hospice has always been part of my life, part of my calling,” Brenda states.
And for Tracy, hospice wasn’t something to fear. She believed in it deeply. So when the time came, she welcomed the hospice team with open arms.
“We moved her into the in-law suite in our home. I was her sister, her nurse, her liaison, her advocate—whatever she needed, whenever she needed it. I took her to every appointment. I sat beside her through chemo. I held her hand through the confusing moments. And she trusted me completely.”
Despite her diagnosis, she lived boldly. “I don’t think I have ever seen a cancer patient with her diagnosis, as outgoing as her.” She went out with friends. She laughed. She loved. She stayed herself. She even snow-tubed in Deep Creek that winter with their brother and sister in law—smiling like a kid flying down that hill.
Those moments they could have together were priceless.
The Hospice Team That Became Family
Some people leave fingerprints on your heart forever. For their family, those people were Dani Moore and Sharon Loving.
Dani was Tracy’s nurse—gentle, steady, compassionate. Tracy would not allow anyone else to care for her during her most vulnerable moments. They formed a bond that brought her comfort and dignity.
“And Sharon… there is simply no one like her. She helped our family through my father’s hospice journey, and she helped us again through Tracy’s. She supported us in ways only someone who truly understands grief and grace can,” Brenda states. “When I needed someone to talk to, someone to steady me, I called Sharon.”
Hospice made it possible for Tracy to live—not just exist—during her final months.
Because of hospice:
- Her pain was managed.
- She had every resource she needed, from medication to equipment.
- She attended her best friend’s wedding.
- She laughed with family at Deep Creek.
- She came to the 2019 Compass Gala—on Brenda’s birthday—and was honored as Patient of the Year. She was radiant that night, glowing with life.
- She lived to be a part of the birth of her fourth beautiful grandbaby, Adley.
Brenda recalls one of her favorite memories of Tracy. “One morning, determined to do something on her own, Tracy decided she was going to make pancakes—all by herself. By the time I walked in, pancake mix was everywhere. The floor, the counter, her beautiful, bald head. She stood there in the middle of the kitchen, covered in flour and all I could do was laugh.” It was messy, chaotic, and absolutely perfect. Because in that moment, she wasn’t a patient. She wasn’t her diagnosis. She was Tracy—independent, stubborn, hilarious, and full of life.
Most importantly, hospice allowed Brenda to stop being just her nurse and be her sister again. They held space for her to cry, to breathe, to step back when she needed to. They gave her the grace to simply be human as she faced the grief ahead.
After living in Brenda’s home for 8 months, Tracy’s pain grew too severe for them to manage at home, and she made the decision herself to go to the Barnette Center on May 13th. She knew what hospice meant, and she trusted it. Her last week of life was peaceful. She was cared for, comforted, and surrounded by love. She was still cracking jokes up until her last breath surrounded by family.
What Brenda Wishes Everyone Knew
“Hospice is not a death sentence. It is hope, comfort, quality of life, and the chance to make the little moments matter.” Hospice allowed Tracy to live fully, “I tell people all the time: If I ever get sick, don’t even pick up the phone. I’m going straight to hospice.” “Because to me, hospice isn’t the end. It’s the support, the blessing, the light that helps families through the hardest chapters of their lives.”
Stories like Tracy’s serve as a reminder that hospice care doesn’t just mean lying in a bed and dying, it often means living life to the fullest during your final days. Even near the end, Tracy did just that—lived life to the fullest, until her very last breath.
Losing Tracy changed Brenda forever, but because of hospice, her final chapter was written with dignity, comfort, and deep connection.
If sharing her story helps even one family understand the gift of hospice—the comfort, the support, the chance to truly live in the moments that remain—then her legacy continues. And that is the most beautiful ending of all.
