I work at a Nursing Home/Retirement Community as a receptionist so I get to meet a lot of people. Some are relatives coming to celebrate a birthday or anniversary, some are diligent visitors spending time with their loved one who isn’t doing very well, and then others are the resident’s themselves. There are always the front desk regulars. Some just stop by to say hello and show me their recent knitting projects. Some lock themselves out a few times a week and come for a key. Others simply come to talk. When I worked at another Retirement Community in high school I wondered why I never got to meet more of the residents. I knew the regulars by name, a few people very closely, and then the rest were just names on a phone index. In the past few weeks I’ve come to realize the reason. Everyone else either has a place they volunteer, family they spend a lot of time with in the area, an activity that takes up their day time, etc. Those who do not are lonely. They stay in their rooms the majority of the time and then wander around the facility making friends as they go. I get to be one of the lucky friends. I have to stay at my desk so I’m always a listening ear :)
There are three residents that I have become closer with than the others, and they happen to be in the later group. All three have living wives but aren’t able to live with their wives. All three women have been outsourced to different locations or live in a different part of the facility here, but the men still live independently at the Home. One man comes each evening to visit with his wife in the Nursing wing, but the others only get to see their wives once or twice a week. They come to the desk for company on their way in and out and talk about their lives. They’ve been married to these women for over fifty years and get tears in their eyes every time they mention them. Whether Alzheimer's, cancer, or illness – their best friends are slowly slipping away. I don’t mean to be morbid, but I’m learning something really really important.
I tend to shed a few tears every evening when they say goodnight and head to their apartments because I know they’ll be alone. For the first time in fifty years. I imagine them looking at a picture of their family or from their wedding and telling their wife goodnight. I wonder if the wives know where they are or realize they’re separated from their husband. It’s such a sad picture.
Each individual has found a different way to cope. One quietly misses his wife and busies himself with his hobby and spending time with his grandchildren. Another is grieving now but remembering the wonderful years they had together and rejoices in the good times with his children. The other does the best he can alone and is very realistic and practical about their stage in life.
While each man handles the separation differently, it is obvious to me that these men and women are incredibly strong, faithful people. They’ve been married for decades. They have children and grandchildren. They still love each other. That’s what I want.
When you’re nineteen you rarely think about visiting your seventy-five year old husband in the Nursing Home, let alone him visiting you. You’re focused on finding him, marrying him, and living happily ever after. At least that’s how it goes for me… But one day, Lord willing, that will be my reality. And I’m not sure there is any way to really prepare for that. Witnessing these individuals is really making me cherish the days I have now. The fun plans, the coffee dates, the nights spent playing Pictionary, the phone calls, the text messages, the dates, the jokes, the friendships. And not just with Mark - but with all my friends and family. These are the things I’ll look back on. One day if I’m sitting alone in a room I’ll know I lived a full, wonderful, blessed life. Hopefully a faithful one. And hopefully I won’t be depressed, but jubilant as I know my time to go home to Heaven is close and the life I leave behind will be a legacy to my character, integrity, and most importantly, my faith.
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