Yesterday

Yesterday started out as normal as any other day. Coffee that was a little to strong, with not enough cream. A shower I didn't get to fully enjoy because my dog thought it was his turn for a bath. There was a chill in the house for, I couldn't get the wood in the stove to light as I wrestled two children in to their coats and mittens. I followed the same old route to work, listened to the same country station and parked in the same old spot. I punched the time clock and listened to the happenings of those I take care of as well as those I work along side. Same old stuff, different day. Except yesterday was not just a regular day, it was a day I experienced something miraculous or perhaps amazing or even spiritual.

          See I work in the health care field. I deal with life, death, pain, rehabilitation, age and sicknesses of all kinds. In the last ten years I have seen death both personally and professionally. I have seen dementia progress and consume it's victims. I have nursed broken bones back to health. I have picked people up both physically and emotionally. I have entered hallucinations to give peace of mind and understanding. Most of all I have given those I care for my heart and all the love and compassion I possess. Though my job is both physically and emotionally exhausting, I was made to care for others. Not to brag but, I am excellent at what I do and I do it with great pleasure. For there is nothing more gratifying than making a difference in every life you encounter.

            I consider myself a strong person. I am told I'm built like a "brick shit house" and have yet to encounter anything I could not do in someway. Yet I will admit my weakness is not in the physical but, in the emotional. When I feel pain, it paralyzes me. When I love, it is with heart and soul. When I cry, its not only through tears but, my entire being. I would take broken bones over a broken heart any day of the week. For I have felt the most terrifying heartache, the up most gripping agony and have; up until yesterday not fully recovered.

        Over the last four years I have come to know, understand and respect the most amazing woman. I have had the pleasure of being her most trusted care taker and enjoyed every minute of ensuring her quality of life. Through illness, falls, and just plain old age; her thirst for life shone through the toughest of moments. She faced fears, said hard good byes, and showed the most inspiring courage and faith until her very end.

          Yesterday I sat in her sun-lit room surrounded by a lifetime of memories hanging on her walls. I held her small fragile hand and sang to her softly though her breathing was ragged, her eyes closed and her mind in a place I could not enter. While outside her room life bustled on with a game of bingo two rooms down, a medication tech walking the halls passing out pills and two CNAs bickered about who would have to work the extra shift.

          Though I have always been uncertain about my faith as far as God goes, I do have to admit there is something spiritual about watching a person die. There is more to death than the painful loss of a person, more than the smell, the "death rattle" or the look of death. It is the completion of nature, the souls freedom from bodily pain.

          I usually pride my self on my professionalism in any situation. But yesterday I found myself completely surprised, no more than that.... I was thoroughly rocked to my core. It is said that just before a persons end, they experience one last burst of energy. I have seen it before and often not recognized it for what it was, until a later moment. Yesterday, this woman gave me the most beautifully selfless gift.... She, with her last breath, saved me.

          With her last "burst of energy" her eyes opened to find mine, her frail little hand applied the slightest pressure in mine and she whispered, "Benji sends his love, Jelly Bean." And then she was gone. Tears slid down my face though I did not move, blink or breathe for who knows how long. I simply sat there with my heart racing still holding her lifeless hand.

          To most her last words would make no sense but, to me they were the closure of a pain I have felt for over half my life. For there has only ever been one person to call me "Jelly Bean." He was the man who made me the woman I am today. "Benji" as I alone called him, was not only my closest friend, but my one true soul mate. I will forever feel the loss of his life but, thanks to a higher power I cannot fully comprehend. I know and now fully feel the power of the connection I had with him. And I no longer fear for his soul.

          I may be ignorant in the workings of God or whatever higher power is "up there" but, I do believe that the good go to one place and the bad to another. Call it heaven or hell, where ever these places are or weather you choose to believe in them is your own choice. For years, I have agonized over where his soul would go. It's said that suicide victims go to hell. Maybe this is why my faith has always been wavering. For I never wanted to believe someone I loved so much, could go to hell for having taken his own life in a moment of weakness at a dark time in his life.

            With those words spoken at the moment a woman as pure as rain, passed from this earthly plain in to a new realm. I am left with little choice but to believe. Believe that she went to a "good" place, and more than that, she was welcomed there buy the one who holds my heart.

            It was out of pure habit that I performed her final preparations. I brushed her hair. I applied her favorite lips stick. I changed her in to her favorite dress while I awaited the undertaker to come for her body. I did not hear the buzzing of co-workers voices. I did not hear my other clients. I had no thoughts, no emotions, as I walked the same hall I'd walked multiple times a day for years.

        It was when I got outside and looked to the bright sunshine that I crumbled, as I have never allowed my self to crumble before.