The Beginning Of The Goodbyes

It almost seems as if it isn't happening yet. At least reality hasn't quite set in.

Last Thursday was my last shift at the Mother Teresa house. Usually around 10:30PM, towards the end of my shift, everything is quiet and I have a chance to slip into the chapel and pray infront of the Blessed Sacrament. I was replaced at 11:00, so I had 30 minutes to try and reflect on my past 19 months spent taking care of the dying. I remembered all of the people I met, ranging from 53 to 98, who came to the house to die. Some of them were coherent and I was able to hold conversations with them, and there were others that we just did our best to take care of because they couldn't communicated. I really bonded with some of our guests and there were others that were there for such a short period of time that I barely knew their name.

I still remember the first woman I took care of as if I just saw her yesterday. She was 59; only two years older than my own mother. Her daughter and grandaughter often visited her and I remember realizing that at one point in time she was as full of life as her grandaughter, or she was a loving mother spending her energy raising her own daughter. That was all in the past though. When she was at the house she was a divorced woman who had almost no energy and who could barely talk. We had a lot of fun joking around when she did get the strength to talk, but that was few and far between.

My perspective on life changed a lot while I was working at the house. Seeing the regret in someones eyes when they are on their deathbed makes you think twice about your own decisions in life. I know it's changed how I make decisions for the most part. I'm not sure I would have ever gotten up the courage to head back to school if I didn't realize that I'd regret not taking the chance.