In your life, where does death live?
Is it on the top shelf of some back closet with the ill-fitting, out-of-season clothes? Is it in the kitchen scramble drawer – where things swept from our public eye go but where few are found? Is it in the backyard shed or garage where things collect when we know we might need them someday but probably not soon?
For me, death is across the street. Like a neighbor’s house it frames my world. Working with seniors death is a part of the everyday. So it isn’t as hidden
To a dear friend, with thanks to Andrew Marvell
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Andrew Marvell had other matters in mind when he penned these lines but I thought of them this evening as I struggled to embrace a lonely and sick woman, perhaps a dying one, in her wheelchair. She sought the comfort of some human touch, a familiar face ,and friendly voice and in return I wrapped my arms around aluminum tubing. Sickness and death are surely a part of life but we have succeeded in making impersonal discomfort a part as well.
leave a comment