Walking Each Other Home

  • Lately, C.S. Lewis and I keep crossing paths. I think I have a journey reading his books in my future, but for now I see his quotes. Today, my husband and I were getting blood work done. Planning ahead, we had gotten two specimen containers last visit, so we were even prepared in that area too. Sometimes it’s hard to force a specimen if you’ve been fasting. Which we were. So in we go to the lab. The waiting room was FULL. We registered and took a seat. Jim was balancing our “specimens” on his lap. I was across the room. Young, old, able, infirm we waited…silently.

    C.S. Lewis wrote, “I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is food for him to wait.” And wait we did. Initially, the waiting room was exceptionally quiet. No one really looked at each other. No one spoke. A man in his thirties offered my husband a seat. Jim said, “thanks, but I’m still pretty young and I can stand.” I joked, “Yes, he’s younger than the new Pope!” Some laughter. Enough to give me license to now engage. The door opens and someone with an appointment comes in and the lab tech yells, “Mrs. So and So with an appointment.” An appointment! How’d she do that! Why didn’t I do that? In she went and the rest of us continued our wait. The door opened again and in came a mom with a carriage and a little one. Two women who’d been there for a while commented on the bench they shared.

    As we waited, we began to develop a comradery. A woman in a chair offered to switch seats with the bench lady. Discussion about coffee began. When someone was called, the group gave a cheer. We were moving! Yay!! The group began to good naturedly tease the appointments. The kids played right outside of the door, and as children were, they were a bit noisy. No one seemed to bother. My husband, Jim, commented that our specimens might have evaporated, much to the laughter of the room.

    Finally, we were called. Elizabeth was pleasant and smiling. Elizabeth was working all by herself. Her coworker had called out sick, so she had to register the patients and draw the specimens. Wow, and that room just kept filling up. But as I thought about our wait, I thought about a group of strangers who slowly bonded in patience and humor. Who began to support and care for each other. And Elizabeth who masterfully managed us all with kindness and efficiency. What a lesson to learn on a Monday morning.

    We often hit forks in the road where we can choose to move forward in anger and frustration. Or we can choose to see strangers as people. We can choose humor and kindness. Today, after fasting for bloodwork, God gave us the food of kinship and shared experience. What a great breakfast! What a gift!

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • Mitch Albom wrote a book called The Little Liar. I’m reading it today and read a passage where the boy Nico is attending a wedding. Now this is in the 1930s or 40s and he asks his grandfather what is over the bride’s face. He replies it is a veil, and her mother had worn a veil, and the mother before her. The grandfather asks, “When we do something today, they did thousands of years ago, do you know what that makes us?” The boy replies, “Old?” Through laughter the grandfather says, “Connected. Tradition is how you know who you are.” Wise words Mitch Albom!

    My Aunt Jane started to make a flag cake every patriotic holiday. We all had our specialties. My mom’s potato salad and cole slaw, Aunt Gert’s dip. Hamburgers, hotdogs. My family’s tradition. Oh, and we always wore red, white and blue. Prepping was half the fun and even though the food was gone in twenty minutes, the tradition continued. And continues. Now my Aunt Jane and mom are gone. But in different states, everyone makes Aunt Jane’s Flag cake. Cousins, siblings share pictures of their creations, teach new generations and inlaws how to create one and generally feel a connection no matter how far apart they are.

    My first Christmas after marriage, around December 8th, Elmer came for me the first time. My Mother-in-law had discovered him one magical morning at her home. Elmer was the original elf, before elf on a shelf, who brought Christmas decorations out of storage. And Elmer left a small trinket for each child…gloves, scarf, a hat. And each child would find his own Elmer sitting atop his gift. My first Elmer had me BEAMING!! I loved him! I loved it! And Elmer would go back into hiding to come again when other decorations came out. The year before my mother-in-law died, our Elmers were retired. My husband found his original Elmer from 1958, the beard frayed and torn, packed lovingly in a box. But the tradition continued. Elmer…NOT THE ELF ON THE SHELF, still comes to our house. I loved the tradition. I still do. And I felt connected!

    Connection and history are important to move along your path. Even at the workplace. Our hospice chaplain created a Blessing of the Hand ceremony for the hospice workers. We would have quiet ceremonies where the hospice staff would have water poured on their hands with a blessing. This tradition continued. It gave acknowledgement that we shared a like commitment and connection. No matter what the journey, we had a commonality.

    And connections can follow you as you walk your own road. Every year, my hospice coworkers from a prior hospice meet at a friends house for a pool party. We all bring food. We bring wonderful stories and sad stories about our friends who’ve left us too soon. And while we are all different ages, races, sexual orientations, political parties and religions, it all melts away to these wonderful, connected human beings happy to be together. We keep getting older, but our hearts are together. Connected. We know who we are.

    About a year ago I asked my late teen, early twenties nieces and nephews what their favorite traditions were. Some replied our Christmas dinner, others the family Thanksgiving Turkey Bowl. Mine was our Family Christmas Tea. What makes them favorites? Family and loved ones, special foods…plain or fancy. Joy. Delight. Wonder. Connection.

    So celebrate your traditions. Make them special. Wear your Christmas pins, set your tables, fix your best foods. Celebrate the connections that we love. And the connections that make us family, friends, people. And help us know who we are.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • Patsy Lynch Tolan was 69 when she died. It was a Wednesday, 23 years ago. The Friday before, my mother-in-law Mary had passed away after battling cancer. Uncle Phil, Mary’s brother, died the day after that. Because of all of that, my sister had come to be with my mom who lived with Jim and me.

    My mom was Patsy. She was my hero, my pain in the neck, my wise woman, my funny mom. And she loved to talk and maybe even gossip a bit!! She was homebound and on oxygen. The phone was her link to the world.

    Saturday, Jim and I visited with our uncle’s family. How weird that brother and sister should die a day apart!! We planned my mother in laws funeral, we gathered with the family. We grieved a woman who gave herself to all.

    My mom, with my sister, carried out her day on the phone, spreading the word of the deaths and being the bearer of the news. When I got home, I sat on her bed and told her of the day. We laughed at some things, smiled at others. Mom was the daughter of a funeral director. I was a granddaughter of one. We always had a thing or two to say about funerals. And when I told her what funeral home we’d visited, she said, “When I die, don’t use them. I don’t like how they embalm.” My mom, my sister, and I laughed at this thought.

    At about 4am Sunday morning, my husband Jim awoke to his mother’s voice telling him, “Go check Patsy!” We jumped up and heard a moan and ran into her room. My mother, Patsy, was lying sideways across the bed with a purple hue. Her bed was saturated with sweat. We called my sister in, and we called 911. The transport is a blur. I kept trying to say it would be ok, but she was so, so sick.

    The hospital Mom was taken to was not one we’d ever been to before. In the emergency room, the doctors said she was in respiratory failure. Her blood pressure was barely palpable. We’d always discussed she would not be intubated as she had significant lung disease, but now was the moment of truth. “Mom, if your heart stops do you want it restarted?” “No,” she whispered through short breaths. Months before I’d been talking about comfort measures. She told me she didn’t want resuscitation if it got to a point she could not breath on her own. Let her go and please make sure she was not gasping for breath. Her wishes.

    And so, I told the doctors at this hospital, that is no longer in existence, that we wanted comfort measures only. The doctors quickly began to criticize me for this choice. They kept telling me I was killing my mother! I don’t know why, at the most precise time, my mom’s doctor reached out to me. He’d cared for her for years. He spoke to the attending doctor at that hospital and told me to hang tough. I was doing everything right. My husband, having just lost his mom, was heading off these doctors and telling them to step away from me as I was so overwhelmed. We continued with comfort measures. And she was. And I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Me the hospice nurse of so many years!!

    Oh my heart! My mom, who’d been sick since I was 10 or 11, who cared for me as best she could and who I cared for as best as I could, was leaving me! She’d suffered physically for years with pain and debility. She had to rely on family and friends to care for her. And they did. Her brother, sister and nieces and nephews. When as a child I was overwhelmed when we had to pick up the mom tasks, I’d tell her I didn’t know where to start! She’d say, “take a deep breath and start in the corner.”

    Start in the corner. How many times in life are we hit with overwhelming circumstances. We just aren’t sure what to do next. I used her advice then. Start bedroom cleaning going into the corner of the bedroom, throw out trash, dust the table, make the bed, vacuum the rug. Start that hard class at school by taking small steps. Calm a room or person by taking a hand or a moment of compassion. Keep your eye on the doable and little by little the task is done. One of my greatest life lessons. My smart, wise mom.

    The week from hell continued. My mother-in-law Mary had a viewing Monday evening. I was there for a short time and then went to sit with my mom. Overwhelmed with it all, I looked at the hospital doorway and there stood my fellow hospice nurse Sinead. Sinead, from Ireland, learned of my mom’s illness when she went to my mother in law’s viewing. She came to be present. She walked in the door to my great JOY. She opened the window of the room a crack and undid the covers from the bottom of my mom’s bed. She went into her purse, pulled out a cream and began to put frankincense on my mom’s feet. She said she was making way for my mom’s soul to leave the room to heaven. She looked at my mom and my family and said, “Don’t worry Pat. Mary’s finishing up her orientation up there and then she’ll be back to get you!”

    Tuesday came and we sadly buried the best mother-in-law one could have.

    Wednesday, April 24, 2002, my mom Patsy, left to follow Mary to orientation. To be with the angels. And with her God.

    Thursday, we laid Uncle Phil to rest. Another beloved member of my in-law family.

    Friday, we had a viewing for my mom. All week the crowds were there, long lines. Many and most of the same people. Now when mom had died, I asked my sister if we should just use the same funeral home we’d used all week. She said, “sure.” So off we go to the funeral home mom didn’t want. Cause she didn’t like how they embalmed. As I crept into the viewing room, I was almost afraid to look. But laying in the casket was my beautiful mom. And she looked beautiful and peaceful. And my sister Pam and I were so sadly happy. Our beautiful Mom, Patsy Lynch Tolan, was without pain at last. She was at peace. And she was beautiful!!

    And Saturday, she rested. The corner was complete.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • Sometimes, just when you think you are doing well, you get a little humbling shove from God. I remember as a child taking ice skating lessons. I was clinging to the instructor so I wouldn’t fall. As I gained more confidence, I let go and looked for my friend yelling “Look at me!” And my feet lifted off the ice and BAMM! Down I went.

    As a hospice nurse and director, I had many humbling experiences. Some funny, some not. Working as a home hospice nurse, I had an orientee with me. She was orienting to on call, and we were called out at 2 am to put a new IV in a young woman waiting for a heart lung transplant. She required medication and could not go without it. We met at the residence and went in, speaking to the patient and family and finally were able to locate a vein and start an IV. And it was a hard IV. We ended up finding a vein in her thumb. I was really impressed with myself!! As we were leaving, I said my goodbyes and opened the door to leave. The orientee too said her goodbyes and walked out behind me closing the door. At that moment, I realized we’d walked into and closed the closet door, not the apartment door!! Sheepishly we opened the door, enjoyed our laugh and left!! Great orientation!!

    A favorite patient of mine was an Irish gentleman. I loved visiting him. Except he had a bird. A parakeet who flew freely. And the parakeet would always head for my head when I went in. He was trying to land. I was trying to duck!! I took to putting a throw pillow on my head when I visited. Didn’t do much but give the patient a good laugh. One day on my way to visit I saw a craft store and went in and bought a fake bird with a wire. I wired it onto the corner of my glasses and walked in the home like nothing was different. No flying bird, but a crying hysterically patient. Sometimes we let down our pride!

    But I remember less funny humble moments. I was diagnosed with macular degeneration over 20 years ago and recently, was noticing changes in my depth perception. In the meantime, several members of our hospice staff had developed COVID. Staffing was challenged and I volunteered to help out 3-11 in the hospice inpatient unit. I offered to do whatever the nurse wanted me to do to help her. She sent me to deliver eye drops to a patient who was not responsive and whose eyes were dry. We needed to provide drops to help her comfort. As I was preparing to administer the drops, my central vision could not determine exactly where to drop the liquid. Drops spilled onto the patient’s cheek and in her eye, thank goodness. Minutes later, the nurse asked me to flush an IV and my central vision didn’t allow me the coordination to connect each end. I asked the person I came to help, to help me. It is humbling to admit you cannot do something you’ve done time and time again. The nurse was kind. “Thank you for coming in. I’ll take the things that need hand to eye coordination. Just you being here makes me thankful.” Of course, the story spread. We could laugh, but no one ever let me give them an injection again!!

    In the early 1990s as AIDs was becoming more common place, we still were not entirely sure of transmission. I always believed myself fearless. I’d always do anything I’d ask my staff to do. I also knew that providing hospice care carried an emotional drain on people. So often they’d come in to chat or laugh or just be heard. One day one of my nurses ran into my office, threw his arms around my neck and began to sob, uncontrollably. He told me he’d been diagnosed as HIV+. His tears were running down my arm, and for a brief second, I thought “Oh, no! Would I get AIDs? ” I knew not, but I still thought…Humbling. Enlightening.

    To say the least I’ve been humbled so far this year with illness and its burdens. I’ve learned though, that becoming humble allows for introspection and grace. Humility lets others help me and hopefully learn from that. Humility says let go. Laugh, cry, learn. It’s all good.

    Humility helps me to surrender to something greater.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • Yesterday I had lunch with a friend of mine. I met her on my first day of work as a nurse in June 1978. I was a scared new graduate nurse working at Hahnemann Hospital. We wore starched white uniforms, white stockings and the clinic shoe. If you know, you know. My friend was already out of school two years when I graduated, and I thought she was so smart and good! And she was. And is. A great teacher.

    We became not only workmates, but friends. We had work adventures and non-work adventures. We were in each other’s weddings and then as happens lost constant touch with each other. She had kids, I didn’t. She stopped working full time and I didn’t. But always a bond! I knew her life had some bumps lately. Like mine.

    So oxygen in tow, off to my friend’s house for lunch. As I walked in her door, a hospital bed was to my immediate left. Lying contently in bed but not interacting was her husband. Over five years ago he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. For five years she’s cared for him. The last year he’s been bedbound. My friend said the hospice nurse for her husband told her she’s giving him wonderful care. She said, “I’m a nurse!’

    We spent the afternoon reminiscing about the “good old days of healthcare.” Before AIDs, before COVID. Before pumps. Counting IV drops by hand; mixing our own IV meds; mixing our own peritoneal dialysis solution. Caseloads anywhere from 14 to 25 patients. I worked the permanent 3-11 shift. Get report, assess your patients, introduce yourself. Do your medication rounds. Frequent check-ins and a backrub offered. Always. And I thought about my recent hospital stay.

    Laying in the bed, the door opened and a machine wheeled in. With two feet behind it. A human popped out from behind with a scan gun. “Hello, I’m your nurse. Can I scan your wristband? Name and date of birth please.” Wow, hello to you too! In fairness, many staff are not as seasoned. I was looking for connection. For eye contact. For that reassurance and care. What found was the technology of progress. All charts correct. All i’s dotted and t’s crossed. What I didn’t see was the human contact I was hoping for. And I became frightened for our futures. Who will care for us? How will they care for us? As we adjust to technology and robots and AI, let’s not forget being human. May we all walk this road a little more aware and a little more compassionately. Like my friend.

    For she’s never lost her touch, her compassion. She is selflessly caring for her husband. What a great example. She’s still teaching me. Teaching me how to walk each other home.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • Retirement in 2023 was a new beginning for me! I retired with three goals.  One was to delve more deeply into prayer, to find my way and my answers. I’d always “fit prayer in” to my life.  Now I resolved to take time to explore my faith.  My second goal was to develop a program to help healthcare workers, clergy and others understand compassionate care of the dying.  In thoughts, words and actions.  My last goal was to explore things I thought would be fascinating.  Things like why manners were not so important, why traditions had gone by the wayside and what happens to Catholics after confirmation.  I know, crazy!!!  Not everything has worked out on my timing, but as with all else, what a life!!

    Lent is coming to an end and Holy Week begins. What a journey!  I started Lent with some surprising health issues which challenge my independence, my mobility and my future.  For a year after I retired, I found my motivation less than I’d thought.  I look back and think I was recovering from working for 47 years in nursing.  Burnout?  Disillusionment?  Depression? Who knows. The only thing I’d started was my faith journey.  Thank God as it’s helped me on this road.

    I was a “publicer.”  One who went to public school versus Catholic School.  I went to catechism in the early 60’s when Baltimore Catechism was taught and continued into CCD, post Vatican II where we studied the meaning of “Bridge over Troubled Water.”  My sister went to Catholic High School, and I thought I wanted to go to her school too.”  Another good choice.  I loved all the girls, uniforms, and lifetime friendships.  Nuns became real, sacraments had meaning.  I’d never learned the rosary and taught myself.  I bought the little blue book and struggled to make sure I had the right beads for the right prayers.  I was introduced to mysteries.  Hmmm.

    My mom faithfully said her rosary every night.  She’d wake with the rosaries beside her in bed.  One day I asked her what her favorite mysteries group was.  She answered, “Mysteries!?  What do you mean mysteries?”  Oh boy.  I explained the Joyous, Glorious and Sorrowful Mysteries and she had no idea.  She just knew she was praying to Mary for intercession.  I began to look at the mysteries to tell me the story of Christ. Birth to death.  Meditating on the meaning.  Of course, as you start it is hard and time consuming.  Never time.  One day I found that the hospice pastoral counselor told me prayed her rosary in her car on her way to work!  Great idea and I found a cassette tape, yes a cassette tape, to help me.

    My retirement plan was to attend or stream daily mass.  To pray for the people I had on my list, for the dead and the sick. To pray to St. Gertrude for the holy souls in purgatory.  And to say the rosary.  And this lent, I’ve said the Sorrow Mystery Rosary every day.  I used the Hallow app and they identify the name of the rosary and the fruit, or gift, praying the rosary.

    The first sorrowful mystery is The Agony in the Garden.  Christ goes to the garden and prays for his upcoming sufferings and crucifixion.  The fruit is sorrow for sin.  This is one of my favorite mysteries to contemplate.  Every test I’ve had this year; every challenge I’ve met I see myself in the garden.  The sin?  Not sure yet.  But I want to surrender to the will of God and give him my challenges.  Perhaps this is my garden.  The apostles that fell asleep may be those who forget what is happening to you.  Well meaning, but not always aware.  I’ve been there for sure. 

    The second sorrowful mystery is The Scourging at the Pillar.  Christ is beaten for proclaiming his role.  The fruit is purity.  Hmmm again.  Purity.  Is Christ scourged because he holds to his faith?  Is pure to his faith and plight?  How can I be pure to my faith?  Do I support the tenets?  Do I trust in God?  Well, I will try.  But that is still a road for me to pursue.  I always pray for the pure in my life.  The children and young.  Those who trust without question.

    The third sorrowful mystery is The Crowning with Thorns.  A crown of thorns is woven and placed painfully on the head of Christ.  Now Christ has been beaten and humiliated.  Many would give in and beg for mercy.  He keeps going.  The fruit of this mystery is Moral Courage.  I love striving for this.  Courage to stand up for your beliefs.  My husband is such a wonderful voice for life, regardless of who is listening.  And I hope me advocating for a natural death when cure is no longer able is my moral courage.  Those who stand for their moral beliefs.

    The fourth sorrowful mystery is The Carrying of the Cross.  Jesus carries his cross.  Tired and with far to go, he slowly makes way to crucifixion.  The fruit of this mystery is patience.  Ahh patience.  Have I been patient lately waiting for my test results.  Can I carry my cross differently, perhaps with more trust in the will of God. Many carry crosses.  Do they weigh more than mine?  Is it all relative?

    The final sorrowful mystery is The Crucifixion.  Jesus is crucified and lives for 3 hours, tormented and tortured.  Even in his pain and weakness he completed God’s plan.  The fruit of this mystery is perseverance.  Jesus cries out “why have you Forsaken me?   But not My will but Yours.”  Wow.  For us.  So when I tire and question where am going with my health; when I look at the limitations, I look at the fruits. The fruits of humility and gratitude.  Loving those around me sharing their fruits.  It helps me persevere in my pursuits of health and my pursuits of a deeper faith.

    Hopefully you’ve discovered food for thought too. I am thankful for all those walking with me on this journey of discovery and of love.  We are just walking each other home. Let’s keep going.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • My nursing career and my life have taken me to places I could only imagine. From high school to nursing school, suburbs to city I have been blessed to meet many heros.

    Heros come in all shapes and sizes. My patient Max was a hero as he showed me what the power of touch and quiet can do. Max awoke with attention and gentle care. He died peacefully many weeks later.

    One night a patient came out to the desk. He was not only a cancer patient, but a resident physician. He wrote on a piece of paper that he coughed up some tumor. He couldn’t talk, but his eyes were scared and weary. As I tried to comfort him, he became frustrated and angry. I could only walk him back to the room. The next day I went to his room to see how he was. I knocked and entered. The light coming in the window showed shadows across the room and bits of dust that you sometimes see in certain lights. In the hospital bed was this man, lying beside his wife. She was curled against him. And beside the bed was a priest administering the sacrament of the sick. It was surreal. The world stopped for a minute as I witnessed the beauty of surrender and faith. Nolite Timere…be not afraid. Heros all three.

    I was a fairly new nurse when we first learned of AIDs. It took so long to determine how it was caused, how it was transmitted, and how staff should take precautions. Camden NJ was part of the area my hospice served. As AIDs raged on, many babies were born of mothers with AIDs. Many of these moms had drug problems so the babies were often crying and cranky. The babies were HIV+. My hero nurse, Silvana, volunteered to care for the AIDs babies. She’d hold them and kiss them. She cuddled them and taught moms how to care for them. And the babies did what babies do. They spit up and they pooped. She was fearless. And special. An example of selflessness and compassion. A hero.

    Walking each other home introduces us to many heroes. More as weeks go on.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • My first patient as a student nurse was an elderly man who I will call Max. Alone in a bed. Isolated. No visitors. Max wouldn’t eat. He laid with his eyes closed. He seemed neither here nor there. My first instinct was to touch his hand and whisper his name. “Max”, I said. He opened his eyes. Touching his hand, I made sure his eyes were close to mine and I smiled at him. Slowly his eyes focused and I saw a light, a connection. I moved my hand to clasp his all the while quietly being. He responded by moving his fingers around mine. It started an amazing journey for me and hopefully a kindness for Max.

    As i experienced more and more interactions with my patients, I found the human touch and presence mattered greatly. I felt and feel a presence, a connection through touch. Connection of sharing strength, sorrow and hope. I think back to when I was sick or sad. What made all the difference to me? My mom’s touch on a fevered brow, my dad’s hug. When my mom became more disabled and couldn’t hug so much I remember the caress on my hand or head that made me know she was there. She cared. I was not alone.

    My nursing career took me to hospice and working with the dying

    The first nurse I met in hospice was caring for my Aunt Kitty. The nurse came into Aunt Kitty’s room, have reclined on the bed near her. She took her hand and said, “what would make you feel better today? What do you want to do?” She was allowing a dying person control and choices. And gently with her hand telling her she would be there.

    As I began my work, I would find myself reaching out for a hand or wiping a brow. Quiet words would tell people, “You’re not alone.” I felt as if God was sending some comforting waves through my hands allowing his graces and kindness to be transmitted to the dying. A midwife of souls.

    At times there was humor. My one lovely lady was dying of breast cancer. Her chest had a lesion I would treat every day. I guess I’d hum as I did the treatments because one day Mrs. H said, “when I am dying, would you sing the Ave Maria to me as I die?” I looked at her and she was serious. I said, “Mrs. H, the last thing you want to hear as you are dying is ME singing the Ave Maria!” We both laughed. A few days later it was evident she was dying. I felt compelled to try and sing to her. I asked some other nurses, “please find me the words to the Ave Maria!” They brought me the wrong rendition. It was growing close. I took her hand and stroked her hair. I told her it was ok to go, and I hummed the Ave Maria. And I felt the presence of God about. And she peacefully slipped away.

    Words matter, touch matters, compassion and presence matter. How we walk each other home matters.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • The power of presence

    When I hear or see a quote, I copy it. If it touches my heart and makes me think. Lately I am reflecting on people who’ve touched my life and helped shape my journey. Hemingway said, “What we truly need is the power of human connection: a quiet presence, a gentle touch that reminds us we’re not alone.”

    Life has given me many twists and turns. My mom became physically disabled when I was 10 or 11. But she was just my mom. Always my mom. She’ll be gone 23 years this year. Losing your mom is hard at any age. I miss her every day. Her presence gave me hope and courage. Every day, prior to her disability limiting her mobility , she’d leave me a message on my blackboard in my bedroom. “Good morning P. Hope you have a great day! Love, M.” When she could no longer make it to my third floor bedroom because of her disability, she left the messages on my lunch napkin. “Good morning P. Hope you have a great day. Love, M.” What a boost to my day. What a connection. What a presence.

    Years later, as mom became unable to live alone or care for herself, she came to live with my husband and me. Never any question. We learned we always take care of our own. Mom’s presence gave us great joy and lots of laughs. Her first night after moving in I got in bed and whispered to my husband “This is different.” To my dismay, my mother answered from her room!! Ut oh!!! What happened to the walls? How did she hear that?! Stay on your side of the bed, I told Jim!!

    Mom’s presence brought a renewal of traditions and created new ones. She was my greatest cheerleader. She was my biggest headache. Tired after working all day she’d say, “Can you give me a shower?” Ugh…of course. She felt like a burden, and I would remind myself that someday I would miss this time. Shower time became caring time, gentle time. Laughing time.

    How does the spouse cope. Well….it took time. But my husband became the true son. One day during a bad health episode, she whispered to him, “take care of my baby.” Tears everywhere. She was his copilot in the car as I took advantage of naps, and his co police radio reporter. We became the three musketeers.

    So as I contemplate her presence in my life, I am grateful for her lessons. Keep moving forward. Have courage. Have faith. Love each other. Take care of each other. Be not afraid. Walk each other home.

    Today, I say to you mom…”Dear M. I hope you are having a great eternity in heaven. Thank you for showing me how to face adversity. How to love tradition, laughter and life. How to have courage and selflessness. Miss you. Have a great day. Love P.”

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….

  • Welcome to my blog. Lifes lessons. Living and dying. Walking each other home.

    This blog will be about lessons from the years on how to take care of each other. Many years as a nurse and for the most part a hospice nurse, made me see things through different eyes.

    My blog, my thoughts. Neither right nor wrong. They just are.

    Walking Each Other Home

    Our journey through life….