I loved your post of quietly connecting with others. Somehow I think of 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted' after reading what you wrote. Accepting the reality of the grief, yet with thankfulness maybe tinges the color of the grief with shades of hope and trusting the love of our Father? Thank you again for taking us beyond the obvious to the land of love and mystery.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the community of the nursing home. A close relative now lives in one, and I visit him regularly. It’s a bare bones kind of place, and not a desirable location in which to spend one’s remaining years, but when I walk in there, the faces of aides, support staff, and nurses, and many of the residents, are familiar, and a good number are friendly. There’s a rhythm to the place, and, for many, the pervasive sense that we are all equal, even those who can’t speak anymore, or whose greatest contentment comes from, say, wheeling around the hallways playing a radio. I find I like going there, sparking smiles by giving my own, listening to those who want to communicate (and giving them the benefit of the doubt that they can), appreciating the stories of the staff (broken ankle for one, due date next month for another), and of course enjoying, and sharing in, the connection my relative has with (some of) his aides. It’s a world unto itself, and while I wouldn’t want to live there and I knew few who would, it’s not necessarily unremittingly depressing. There’s life in the community of it. People who know your name and what matters to your loved one. Who sometimes greet you with openness about their recent day off. And who sometimes say “good night” with a warm smile when you leave. I feel lucky at all it’s added to my life.
That nursing home sounds like a good, kind, solid place. I'm glad you visit your relative regularly and that the aides are open and helpful. I'm glad they treat everyone equally, even the ones who can't speak. A few days before our neighbor died, we visited him at the veterans nursing home. He was pretty much helpless, and very ready to die. I was impressed by how clean it smelled and how upbeat and kind his aide was. She seemed like she really enjoyed her job.
At any rate, what a beautiful portrayal of the your relative's care facility. I'm glad your relative is safe and that responsibility for his physical care and community is on their shoulders with you visiting him.
I too don't want to end up in one either. At 70, though I find the future is one I have to lay in God's hands and trust. And work to maintain my health and social life. Gosh it's so very good to hear your voice.
Today, I visited the local indie bookstore. I had a full agenda of picking up a couple books that had been ordered, buying another book my son wanted, using a partially-used-up gift certificate, and then buying 5 other gift certificates for my kids' teachers for the end of the year. The lovely person behind me was very patient, and the lady checking me out was very friendly about all of this, even though it took a while.
At the end she said, "We did it!" in a pleasant way, and I responded, "I feel like we should high five!" Then, Katie, we ACTUALLY DID HIGH FIVE. And we had a genuine good laugh.
I loved your post of quietly connecting with others. Somehow I think of 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted' after reading what you wrote. Accepting the reality of the grief, yet with thankfulness maybe tinges the color of the grief with shades of hope and trusting the love of our Father? Thank you again for taking us beyond the obvious to the land of love and mystery.
Oh you’re very welcome. Your comment is so beautifully put. Thank you for pointing me to those shades of hope.
Good one, Katie.
I just bought you a can of beans that you can share with your community . . . or, at least, with Bruce. ❤️
Thanks so much for your support and for reading this. Actually Mrs. Dog is getting the can of beans!
I’ve been thinking a lot about the community of the nursing home. A close relative now lives in one, and I visit him regularly. It’s a bare bones kind of place, and not a desirable location in which to spend one’s remaining years, but when I walk in there, the faces of aides, support staff, and nurses, and many of the residents, are familiar, and a good number are friendly. There’s a rhythm to the place, and, for many, the pervasive sense that we are all equal, even those who can’t speak anymore, or whose greatest contentment comes from, say, wheeling around the hallways playing a radio. I find I like going there, sparking smiles by giving my own, listening to those who want to communicate (and giving them the benefit of the doubt that they can), appreciating the stories of the staff (broken ankle for one, due date next month for another), and of course enjoying, and sharing in, the connection my relative has with (some of) his aides. It’s a world unto itself, and while I wouldn’t want to live there and I knew few who would, it’s not necessarily unremittingly depressing. There’s life in the community of it. People who know your name and what matters to your loved one. Who sometimes greet you with openness about their recent day off. And who sometimes say “good night” with a warm smile when you leave. I feel lucky at all it’s added to my life.
That nursing home sounds like a good, kind, solid place. I'm glad you visit your relative regularly and that the aides are open and helpful. I'm glad they treat everyone equally, even the ones who can't speak. A few days before our neighbor died, we visited him at the veterans nursing home. He was pretty much helpless, and very ready to die. I was impressed by how clean it smelled and how upbeat and kind his aide was. She seemed like she really enjoyed her job.
At any rate, what a beautiful portrayal of the your relative's care facility. I'm glad your relative is safe and that responsibility for his physical care and community is on their shoulders with you visiting him.
I too don't want to end up in one either. At 70, though I find the future is one I have to lay in God's hands and trust. And work to maintain my health and social life. Gosh it's so very good to hear your voice.
Today, I visited the local indie bookstore. I had a full agenda of picking up a couple books that had been ordered, buying another book my son wanted, using a partially-used-up gift certificate, and then buying 5 other gift certificates for my kids' teachers for the end of the year. The lovely person behind me was very patient, and the lady checking me out was very friendly about all of this, even though it took a while.
At the end she said, "We did it!" in a pleasant way, and I responded, "I feel like we should high five!" Then, Katie, we ACTUALLY DID HIGH FIVE. And we had a genuine good laugh.
Oh that sounds marvelous. Books and a high five! Big smile here!