For a while now, I've been working as a courier for a local hospice company. Many consider this a terrible job; scooting from house to house in which someone is going to die. My route takes me each day to our 5 bed unit at the local hospital as well. We just had two people die last night.
I think of this often, on my way in and out of the hospital: I take the elevator up to the third floor, and as I approach our wing, you can take a right and it takes you to the maternity ward; I don't know how to put my thoughts into words here, but here we have life and death, side by side.
On the west viewing side of the hospital we have women crying in pain and then crying with rejoice, followed by the tiny little cries that we all hope will lead a long and fulfilling life. Then, on the other side of the wall, there is quiet, sometimes accented by the cries of those who surround a life that is leaving this earth. Are they in pain? Are their thoughts plagued with regret, or rejoicing with happiness of a life they truly wanted to lead? Are they surrounded by loved ones, or are they visited by one of our caring volunteers that take time out of his or her life to spend with a dying stranger?
This morning, I heard fairly loudly a prayer being offered by one of our chaplains, and I wondered if that brought any comfort to the dying and to the family.
I used to work at a retirement home. Some local high school students came to the retirement home one year to host a "senior's prom," and they decorated it and dressed as if it were their own proms. Our "prom queen" couldn't dance; she was legally blind and could barely get around. Our "prom king" was a community fellow that came by to give dance lessons (he was no spring chicken either!). When their names were announced, he promptly went over to his queen and serenaded her. She was beaming from ear to ear.
She died last night around 4 am. I will think of her often, the "prom queen."
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