Reunion In Death

Today I held the hand of a dying woman. The deep lines on her face tell a story of untold happiness, sadness, struggles and euphoria.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes pass and I am lost in a daze. What is she thinking? Is she afraid? Does she have hope?

I speak to her in a compassionate voice, knowing the inevitable outcome awaiting her, but attempting to bring comfort between labored breath. She has not eaten in days, morphine masks the physical pain... her body is wasting away.

Care aides are trained to help those who can no longer help themselves effectively. We motivate, wash, exercise and note any changes in the physical, psychological or behavioral. We listen, converse and love these aged beings in the absence of their families. Sadly we do not know the person they were in their youth, instead we often meet an obscure representation because disease has taken a firm hold. Dementia ranges from the mild sort of confusion that can lead to frustration, all the way to those who are unaware of their surroundings, date and even their most beloved. The lady I held adored her children, was kind and gracious to everyone, emigrated as a child from Poland to go on to shape young minds as a teacher. She brought value and was valued in this world... she was cherished by her kin.

As I leaned over her bed, she stared up into my eyes, hers still blue as the sky on a clear day... like the eyes of my father. I am transported to the last time I saw my dad, the same sunken features, the lack of vitality. It was tragic to see my old man without his full face, the man from my childhood was strong and young. This lady reminds me how difficult it is to confront death, to confront a loved ones death. Quietly I speak to her about how it is "okay", that she will be in the arms of her mother and father again. She looks at me and blinks deliberately. Is this a blink meant to signal to me that she understands? Beyond reason I accept this as what it was. It comforts me, it is difficult to imagine death without a hope of something more. A fairytale it may be, but we all need escape from time to time.

She runs in the tall grass, her father chases her, her mother watches on...smiling... and wishes the moment lasts eternal . Her father's arms envelope her tiny body, she melts into his, it is ecstasy... this kind of devotion. Only a father can know the love a man has for a daughter. This kind of love cannot be extinguished and it is due to this that I am hopeful she will respond to my words about a reunion, an embrace she has awaited for many years.

After I got home I scooped up my daughter and held her tightly. I reminded her again how much I love her, and how she is everything I could have ever asked for in a daughter. She smiled knowingly, and returns my sentiment. This bond cannot ever die.

I am a Care Aide. I care for and love those who have loved countless others during their time on this earth. They have experienced a lifetime of success and failure, happiness and sadness, struggle and euphoria.

Today I had the privilege of holding the hand of a dying woman.