I Love My Job
Despite the sorrow (or is it because of it?) I put a lot of heart into my work. I would be miserable without it. I do everything for anyone; I do everything useful I can. How would I feel, if Wilma got sick and died next week? What if she broke her hip again? What if Iris has a stroke? I want to help everyone. I want to make their life a little more bearable. I think everyone has a rough life. These people who are wheelchair-bound don't have the freedom I do. They can't take off and escape this life when it is unkind to them. So I feel the need to protect and shield them. I buy them presents and try to make them laugh. I watch them, notice when they are ill. I give them company when they are lonely and take them places. I just like being close to the residents, hearing how they are and what is new (and old). I have cried on many occasions when they tell me stories about their pasts. I get attached to families of the residents. I love working there. It is amazing that for someone so antisocial, it still makes me so grateful to be there to help people.
To my dearest Ruthie, wherever you are.
I put flowers on your memorial stone this spring, and I look at it whenever I pass and think of you. I also bought you daffodils.
I think about you whenever I eat chocolate now. I think about you every time I walked past your (now vacant) room.
'Crispy crèmes' as you called them have never been my favorite, but I have bought them on several occasions to eat and just feel close to you.
I wish I had done more for you. I wish I just sat in your room more to stay close to you. I wish I had asked you to tell me stories. I wish I sang with you. I wish I soaked up that beautiful southern accent. I wish I never left your side. I wish I made you happier. I wish I could have shielded you from the hardships of life. I wish I could have died in your stead. The world is missing someone who is necessary. We all need you. It broke my heart whenever I saw you as you started to decline. You slept more. But you were always sleepy. It was very endearing. You started staying curled up like a cat most of the time. You looked so fragile. You somehow got sweeter and more tender than you had been before. I don't know how you managed that; you were always the sweetest person I ever knew. It breaks my heart, makes me want to start crying all over again. You were losing weight, stopped moving yourself around. You started residing out in the hallway so the nurse could keep a close eye on you. I want to thank her for caring for you. I want to hug you and kiss you and spoil you rotten. I want to take care of you. You're like the grandma I never got to have. I wanted you to be happy more than anything. I want to be near you. And now I can't be near you. You're gone.
Thank you for being part of me.
I love you. I miss you. Please let me- no, please make me feel like you're still close to me. I need you.
I wish I knew you like I wanted to.
RIP
