It’s been nearly a decade since my dad passed away, but some of the kindnesses that were shown to me during that vulnerable time were things I will never forget and for which I will always be grateful.
The week before he passed away, I got a call at work from the doctor at his nursing home indicating that hospice services had been ordered for my dad, and that Daddy probably only had a couple of weeks left in this life. When I got off the phone, I went to tell my secretary that I was going to have to leave early, and explained to her about my phone call. One of my co-workers, who had lost his father a few years earlier, got in on the conversation. When I told my secretary that I had to go by another office to drop something off related to my job, my co-worker volunteered to drive me. He didn’t make a big deal of it, was very low-keyed, but communicated his empathy with this simple recognition that he knew I could use some support. Though he and I often had very different perspectives on issues, I was so moved by his kindness, and for a brief moment I felt the protectiveness of an older brother I had never had.
Just one week later, I held my dad’s hand as he slipped gently from this life. Two days later, I was at the home of a friend who was helping me with the arrangements for his service. She knew that I was overwhelmed because, as the utilitarian child in my family (my only sibling had Down Syndrome), I not only managed the care of my father and brother, but also dodged attacks from a borderline-personality mother who was in the early stages of dementia, while raising a teen-aged daughter on my own.
When I arrived at her house, my friend offered me tea. I had been running on adrenaline for several days, and was still in “doing” mode, but she would have none of it. She adamantly insisted that I sit for twenty minutes, enjoy my tea and breathe. “We have plenty of time to work out the details, but right now, the most important thing you can do is catch your breath,” she said. What a gift that was!
Both of these kindnesses were simple, but they had a profound effect on me. They both communicated to me that I mattered, that for a few minutes, someone else would take control and take care of things. And for someone who has always been very good at taking care of everyone but myself, that meant the world.
I will always be grateful to these two folks who recognized the vulnerability beneath my strong façade, and for a few minutes lifted the weight from my shoulders. Their acknowledgement and the breathing room they each offered me gave me the strength to make it through the next few weeks.
As Carrie Newcomer sings, “Every kindness, large or slight, shifts the balance toward the light,” and so I now try to follow their examples by looking for ways to lighten the loads of others as we share this journey together.