God has placed me on a new path. It’s different from my last journey, but in many ways, it feels familiar. I’m now working in hospice care.
When people hear the word “hospice,” they often think of death. I get that—but hospice is so much more. Hospice care is specialized in providing comfort, not just physically but emotionally, socially, and spiritually, for those with serious illnesses when treatments are no longer effective. It’s about relieving pain and suffering, offering peace in a time of great vulnerability.
Recently, I accompanied a hospice nurse to an older nursing home that happened to be across the street from a brand-new charter school and playground. As I walked in, something profound struck me. There, in one room, lay a patient in the last stages of her life. The walls around her were adorned with photos—family, friends, and snapshots of her younger, more vibrant self.
Just outside her window, children ran, jumped, and played with wild abandon, their laughter filling the air. It hit me: those children, in their joy, had no idea that just across the street, someone who once ran and played like them was now at the end of her journey.
Life is a gift. Our bodies, too, are gifts from God, though many of us—including myself—often take them for granted. We need to cherish this gift, nurture our bodies, and move them with intention while we can.
If you are reading this, I would like you to think about your loved ones who are in their sunset years. Maybe it’s time to give them a call or pay them a visit if it’s possible. I would also like you to take a moment out of your day to move with intention, laugh freely, and cherish the gift of life. We never know when our turn to reflect from that window will come.
And we need to remember to smile, laugh, be kind, and spread joy—because, in the end, life’s simplest pleasures are its greatest treasures.
There’s a beauty in the contrast, a melody in the song of life; the young and the elderly, separated by only a few yards, yet living at opposite ends of life’s spectrum.
To be honest, I’m just winging it….. Life, motherhood, my mascara…..everything.
January 19th, 2023
Lot’s of thinking and processing. I am thinking about me, my life, my children, what is best for all of us. I find myself in a continued state of disbelief that Lorick is gone forever. Gone from his earthly presence. Grief, it’s hard. Grief does not have an expiration date, nor a best if used by either. Grief, it sits in my cellar like wine waiting to peak. My grief, I want it to age like fine wine, I have hope and optimism that it will mature to a final release, along with dread and fear. The fear is of waiting not long enough or too long, of storing it wrong and, ultimately, of missing out on what could have been, or what once was. Just like a beautiful bouquet fine wine can possess, it is also very complex. My grief is complex.
My friend Walter, who is also a 2TI camp partner, reached out and let me know he was heading to the camp to take care of a few things. I asked him who was going with him. He said he was going alone, everyone else had prior plans. After he told me this, there was a silent pause between us. Before I opened my mouth and asked my question, I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “I want to go. I want to go to say hello to Lorick, to be around him. Can I go?” Walter said, “You are always invited by me, but it’s just me, and you know how people can talk.” Of course I know how people can talk! So, I started thinking of ways to make a quick one night trip in January to 2TI work… My son Ben! I could ask Ben if he and his buddies want to go out there for the night. Perfect! Problem solved. But, it wasn’t perfect or solved. Ben had a basketball game and the reality I quickly came to terms with, was I was trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. Not this time. I gave up. I was trying to force something that was not possible. I decieded to relish in knowing Walter thought of me, and Lorick.
Later that afternoon, I sent Walter a message, “Hey there, if you are out at the camp, just tell him I have been thinking about him. I hope that’s not too weird.” Walter simply responded “Nope” and followed it with a picture of the sunset.
The next morning Walter sent me a picture of a beautiful sunrise accompanied with a text message that said, “He said thank you and he is thinking of you as well.” My heart burst. It burst with all sorts of feelings, happniess, sadness, sorrow, and longing for his presence. How incredibly kind of Walter to send that message to me, tears rolled down my face after seeing the sunrise photo and having hope that my message reached Lorick.
Thank you Walter.
About 30 minutes after I got my message from Walter I left my house to head on with my day. I needed to gas up my car, so that was the first stop. I kept thinking about 2TI and Walters message, I wanted it to be true, I wanted to believe Lorick was thinking about me too. I pulled into the gas station and up to the pump, as I got out of my car I looked about 6 feet away from me and saw a dull round shape on the ground. I immediately knew it was a penny. The mason jar I threw into the river when I said my goodbyes to Lorick, included pennies and dimes, along with a note that asked him to give me a sign from time to time so I knew he was around me. I looked at this dull round object for a minute and then started talking to myself about it. (not out loud of course!) I said to myself, if this penny is dated 1970 I know for sure what Walter told me is true, he is thinking of me too. 1970 was the year Lorick was born. I approached the penny, picked it up, and bam! 1970! Tears of happiness flowed down my face, I didn’t care who saw me crying either, it was an incredible moment for me. It gave me hope. Hope that we never loose our love ones, their energy exists, we only loose their earthly presence.
Lorick, thank you for sending me a penny from heaven. xoxo D
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