Honoring the Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice and a Beloved Friend
Hello, fellow lovers of all things green,
As you may know, you can subscribe to my free newsletter (sign up below), which arrives in your inbox every week or two. Since the beginning, my dear friend and garden design colleague, Marty Carson, has been a faithful subscriber.
Last Sunday, while sending the latest newsletter, I noticed Marty had unsubscribed. My heart sank. Clearly, her family is helping her tidy things up. Marty fell in February, and though she breezed through surgery, it marked the beginning of her decline. In spring, she moved near her son in Florida. A few weeks ago, she entered hospice care, lovingly tended to in her home.
My last visit, via FaceTime, was on her birthday, September 19. I stopped on the way home from a client. Behind me stretched the sunny faces of Liberty Farm’s Sunflower Maze, which brightened her day and mine—a moment I’ll always cherish.
A Farewell (for now) to the Home for Hospice
Speaking of hospice, the Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice in Fredon, NJ, will close on November 14, 2025. The news, though sad, wasn’t surprising. A few months ago, they began using only six of the ten rooms to reduce costs while maintaining their exceptional care.
I’ve witnessed that care firsthand as a music therapy volunteer alongside my friend Ken Roberts for nearly nine years. Ken began the day the doors opened eleven years ago. Recently, John Quinlan, the Foundation’s Director, thanked us for our service—though honestly, it’s been a gift to us. He explained that since the pandemic, nursing shortages and the cost of agency staff have strained budgets. Once patient numbers reach seven to twelve, staffing must double to ensure proper care.
Julia and John Quinlan, April 2025
What a joy to witness the loving care Guilene Ham and Kim Coddington give to patients. Thank you, beautiful souls.
The nurses and caregivers at Karen Ann Quinlan are extraordinary—angels on earth. This end-of-life residence shows what genuine compassion looks like. To know such care is unsustainable is heartbreaking, especially after seeing the inadequate conditions my mother endured for three years in Virginia and hearing of others’ similar experiences.
Closer to home, many recall the tragic headlines surrounding the former Andover Subacute II, later renamed Woodland Behavioral and Nursing Center, where neglect shocked the nation.
A Legacy of Loving Care
Thankfully, Karen Ann Quinlan Hospice, the nonprofit agency, will continue serving patients in their homes and at nursing facilities. Their statement assured the community:
“While the inpatient residence will close, Karen Ann Quinlan Hospice and Quinlan Palliative Care will continue without interruption. Our team will remain by your side, offering the same excellence and empathy that have defined our care for nearly half a century.”
The beautiful building overlooking farmland will remain in use for offices, a Bereavement Center, volunteer training, and events. Perhaps someday, with new funding and positive shifts, the Home for Hospice will reopen—continuing its legacy of exceptional care. I pray so, as it is needed in our community and across the nation.
Promises That Live Beyond Seasons
Last week, we spoke of the sequence of falling leaves and how they nourish the earth for the next season of growth. Their role doesn’t end; it transforms. The same is true for us—and for the good work of agencies like the Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice.
The gifts my friend Marty has shared through her plant wisdom and design talents over our twenty-five years together will continue to grow in my work—beautifying landscapes organically to nurture a healthier world. Our love and friendship, like the seasons, will never truly end.
Comparing Garden Hands of Ken Druse and Marty Carson
The Songs of Hospice Project
Ken Roberts and I are working on a project, The Songs of Hospice, a collection celebrating life’s final chapter through the healing gift of music, to raise awareness and help raise funds. The collection reveals glimpses of the journey patients and families experience, as well as the gifts shared during that sacred time of life. Yes, even as we approach the end of life, we are living.
There is an article on NorthJersey.com (May 2025). Scott Fallon wrote that the “Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice was one of New Jersey’s first inpatient hospice centers, rooted in the Quinlans’ belief that terminally ill people should not be kept alive through extraordinary means, if they so choose. He shared statistics about our aging population that were rather dramatic. The number of people 85 or older is expected to nearly double by 2035, to 11.8 million. And nearly triple by 2060, to 19 million, according to US Census projections.”
And so, what is broken needs to be fixed. When a family member goes through difficult times, especially in less-than-adequate nursing homes that abuse or do not treat their patients kindly, we walk away exhausted from it, so exhausted that we don’t speak up to help make a change. It happens to many families, including mine.
“Promise me that when I am gone, you will continue to sing,” Julia said.
Honoring the Quinlans’ Courage and Legacy
Nursing home care is not only for older adults. Young people end up in nursing homes, as did Karen Ann, who was only twenty-one when she went into a coma. “It was the most difficult thing to watch my daughter die slowly for ten years,” Julia Quinlan said.
I am so grateful that Julia and her husband, Joseph Quinlan, spoke up—and did so in a big way. Because of their legal battle for their daughter’s right to live without extraordinary means of life support, a landmark decision came giving us the right to choose. We can sign an Advanced Directive to express our wishes.
At the recent High Tea Fundraiser in spring, Julia Quinlan—co-founder of the hospice, now 97—attended with her signature grace. As the event wound down, Ken and I sat beside her and sang Over the Rainbow, her daughter Karen Ann’s favorite song. When we finished, Julia took my hand and said, “Promise me that when I am gone, you will continue to sing.”
We will, I promised her—we will keep singing for all whose love continues to grow beyond the seasons of life.
A winter sunset at Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice
Reflections on Eternal Growth
Yes, my heart is heavy about our Home for Hospice visits ending, but I genuinely believe it’s the beginning of a transition to something more. We will continue singing our songs, and I encourage you to do the same.
The songs of your spirit don’t have to be a voice. They’re our interactions and the loving care we give to each other and to our dear earth. These are voices that speak loudly.
Passions sometimes grow into a mission, a life purpose, or appear in expressions of art, music, or even small kindnesses: a wave to a passerby while walking your dog.
A Perfect Unfolding
There is an unfolding of God—or Source, if you prefer—in everything and everyone, much of it beyond our senses. As you gaze at the beauty of nature, think of the unseen magic that awakens buds in early spring, brings blooms that turn into seeds, and renews life in endless cycles.
There is eternity in all things—and with that, there is hope.
Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone@gmail.com
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Related Posts & Podcasts:
– A Sunflower Maze of Healing
– Joy of Recieving Cut Flowers – featuring Ken Roberts
– The Gift of Carol Decker’s Wildlife Art
– The Sequence of Fall Leaves Brings Life
