The following article was written by one of Circle of Life's patient volunteers, Lisa Kelley. She has been a part of the COL team for over three years. I thought this article gave great insight into the hospice world. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Certain
Memories Stand Out More
TIMES REMEMBERED MOST ARE THE SIMPLE, UNEXPECTED MOMENTS WHEN CALLED TO BE
DIFFERENT
-By Lisa Kelley
When you look back over your life
thus far, what do you remember most?
Those moments where everything went according to plan, or where
something happened that carried you away from your charted course? For me, I tend to remember the Plan B’s of
life far more often than the Plan A’s.
I remember the wretched aroma of
our high school gymnasium after someone poured deer scent (eh, that’s a pungent
blend of deer urine, for those unfamiliar with the term) all over the floor
right before our commencement exercises, and I remember the ensuing laughter echoing
from our class as parents held their noses in disgust. I remember the times when my mother, newly
divorced and on her own for the first time in her life, tried to build a fire
in the wood stove. We spent many a
winter’s night with snow on the ground and us in our summer gowns with the
windows thrown open because it was hotter than Hades in the house. I remember the night my father left; the day
my marriage ended; the curious combination of smells (artificial roses,
Cotillion perfume and moth balls?) that defined my great-grandmother’s house; the
sight of my kitten and puppy having toilet-papered my entire living room,
twice; the amazing, free-spirited feeling of hopping in the car with my dog and
driving 3,000 miles across the Old West without reservations or itinerary. Those moments, when we are completely off-script
and thrust square into the unexpected, those moments I remember.
As a volunteer at our local
Circle of Life Hospice, I’ve had the privilege of being invited into the most private
moments of those facing the final stages of life as we know it. For many, this is a time of reflection over
life’s events, and I’ve noticed a common thread woven throughout their
stories. Without exception, each person has
shared with me stories containing two central themes: faith and family, and their heartbreak or
triumph with either.
The first patient I was ever paired
with was a quiet lady with strained family relations. She hadn’t opened up much with the doctors,
nurses, social worker or clergy, but on the afternoon of our first meeting, she
confessed her socks off to me. Perhaps
it was easier to talk with the person who wasn’t there to poke her with a
needle or change her linens; I had no agenda other than to be there for her in
any way that I could. Of all the moments
in all her years, the ones she focused on were the ones that tormented her,
ones where both God and kin seemed far away.
She wanted to talk, so I listened, and then shared with her about my
similar failings and of the grace I believe is afforded us all. Her face softened as tears streamed down her
face, and though she still talked about those troubling times, she began to
share more and more about the other memories of her life as well.
A woman of extremely limited
means, she said she’d never given much thought about her final arrangements and
that she’d likely have whatever was cheapest.
I asked if she could have anything at all and money was no object, what she
would want. She said she always hoped to
be buried in a dress. “You know, a pretty
church dress,” she said. I replied how
that seemed fairly reasonable to me. She
smiled slightly, looked down and said, “I guess so, but I don’t own a dress.”
The plain white box was delivered
anonymously. Inside, beneath mounds of
tissue paper, the pastel dress awaited its new owner. I heard that she beamed with delight and
couldn’t believe the dress was hers. She
immediately wanted to try it on. It fit
perfectly. I thought it looked lovely on
her at her service.
Perhaps the times remembered most
are the simple, unexpected moments when we’re called to be something different
than we planned. When we’re available,
laying aside expectations, clearing our calendars and putting down the iGadgets
long enough to have real, face-to-face conversations with
the world around us. When we let
something just happen. Sometimes, being
receptive to an altered course and making the most of Plan B is enough. Sometimes, there’s no higher priority in life
than a pretty dress.
-This copyrighted article
published with permission from NWA Media and the Benton County Daily Record. (www.nwaonline.com)
