2004-08-17 - 8:40 p.m.
At the nursing home, I start down A-Hall, then I go to do B-Hall. I always do Alice's room first. She is very particular about things getting put back in the right place once the space underneath and around them has been cleaned. Almost every resident has something to occupy the space at the window's edge; a stuffed animal, jewelry box, old letters, pictures.
Alice is very particular about things getting put back in their place unless she isn't in the room; she doesn't remember where things were if she leaves and comes back. She's very private and sad, she is in an advanced stage of M.S. I always come in right when she goes to get breakfast, so I do her room first.
I always wondered what the flowers on the edge of her bed were for. They are fake red roses from Teeter's flowers (the local fake plant manufacturer). Still in the box, collecting dust in the chair at the edge of her bed.
I once told her about my woman troubles and she told me I was a godly man...sheesh, I almost cried that day. I guess she figuered I was a man of God because I told her I prayed for her while I left her room on certain days. And things get to be comical in such a place...I was cleaning her room while she was in it a couple weeks ago, I picked up the flowers and dusted around the old box.
She then without warning told me of a day three years ago when she fell asleep in her bed next to her husband; she had fallen into a coma. While in that sleep, her husband suffered a heart attack and passed away. When she woke up two weeks later, her husband was buried and gone. Because of a falling away with her children, she had never gotten to see where he was buried or see her old house. Those flowers were for his grave and she swore that she would one day visit his grave and lay those flowers to rest. Ofcourse, by that time I had her hand in mine and I was holding back tears, but I told her I would pray for someone to take her.
I found out monday that someone took Alice to Arkansas to say goodbye to her husband. A woman of fifty years and such a way of living and saying goodbye. I cannot begin to express the joy I had, knowing she got to say goodbye. I guess you could say that I'm loosing more reasons to hold any love back for anyone; life can be short for any of us. There are even more stories from the nursing home that have not been about me giving blessings, but receiving them. I hope to share more soon.
Your friend
