Loss

Loss…how do you define it? The American Heritage Dictionary defines loss as “the act or an instance of losing” and “the harm or suffering caused by losing or by being lost”.

I am writing this with a heavy heart as I reflect on the losses of my life and the fact that this week will mark the fifth anniversary of the loss of my nephew Craig whom I miss terribly along with everyone who ever came in contact with him. Hurricane Jeanne came and tore him from our lives. I think the unexpected and unexplainable losses are the hardest ones. There are no what ifs or what could I have done differently scenarios, just a hole deep inside that will only be filled on our last day.

In my life I have lost a lot. I have lost my father, my mother, my daughter, my brother, my nephew, two mothers-in law and two fathers-in-law, sister-in law, not to mention grandparents, cousins, uncles and friends. In my work I grow close to patients, many of which I lose each year. I miss each and every one, but, being a person of faith, I know I will see them again one day. I feel selfish to grieve, for I know that they are where I long to be one day, in the arms of my maker.

Then there are other losses that we see more and more each day; the loss of jobs, marriages, family relationships, homes and the like. Life is filled with various types of loss. It is all around us, we cannot escape it. But, without loss, we would not know what gain is.

By comparison, we gain by the families we have to love, by the new babies coming into our world. We celebrated the birth of Laci, Mia, Nathan and Cash into our family in the last two years alone. How wonderful is that!! We celebrate marriages, the opportunities to start over again when we find a door closed in our lives. We celebrate because we have a God who loves us no matter what and no matter how we screw things up.

It’s hard to suffer loss, but loss is a part of living. Any you know what? I would rather have had the short time I have had with those I loved and lost than not to have had any time with them at all. The happiness they bring to us during their lives is so worth the temporary void in our hearts until we meet them again, and we will. I cannot feel sorry for myself because when I see the things of this world, I see people who will never have the opportunity for the love that I have been blessed with in my life even though many have been taken away too soon.

Look at your life as one looks at a heartbeat on a monitor. It is a line with ups and downs which keep us alive. We will have good and bad. You do not want a straight line because then you have “flatlined” and this life will be gone. Bear the downs and take advantage of the ups and help others to do the same.

Feel your losses, but take ownership of the joys. We are mere fractals in a tapestry being woven by God and only He can see the beautifully finished product from His vantage point. Life is worth the ride.

Never judge a book…..

You know the old saying “never judge a book by its cover”? I have learned in many ways the truth of that statement.

One such experience occurred when I delivered shoes to a patient near Blythe Island, Georgia. I was working for Liberty Medical at the time and so I only delivered shoes which had been ordered through Liberty’s office. These patients that I served in various parts of the country I rarely saw more than one time. This was one of those times, but one that I will never forget.

I drove up to a magnificent riverside colonial mansion, one you might read about in a novel. I walked up the stairs and looked around at the perfectly manicured landscaping while I was breathing in the salty air. Wow, I thought, now these people were soooo lucky!!

An impeccably dressed and recently coifed elderly woman came to the door and invited me in. I followed her to a table in a beautifully furnished “sitting” room overlooking a wide section of a river fed from the Atlantic Ocean between Brunswick and Jekyll Island. I complimented her home and its beauty and she told me that her staff was excellent. As always, I looked around for something which would spark general conversation while I fit her shoes and molded her orthotic inserts. I saw a family picture of what appeared to be her, her husband, one grown daughter and one grown son. I told her that she had a beautiful family.

She then told me that she had lost her son in the Vietnam War years earlier. She went on to tell me that she had buried her husband the year before. The night of her husband’s burial she and her daughter were sitting at this exact table when her daughter’s head hit the wood and she died instantly from a brain aneurism. My patient did not cry although I did. I should have been the one comforting her, but she was attempting to console me as she spoke about how “lucky” she was in that she might have lost her family but look at what she had; beautiful memories of each of them. She remarked that some people are never lucky enough to know the love her family shared. She spoke about how this house was way too big for her, but she would never leave because this was where she could remember the many good times she had while her family was still with her.

She was filled with joyful stories and spoke with such anticipation as she told me that she couldn’t wait to join them again one day. She trusted God and knew that He was not finished with her yet. She had more to do.

And she did. She had to teach me a valuable lesson. Things are not always what they seem on the surface. I would like to think I could have the kind of strength she exhibited that day, but I’m not so sure. I pray I never have to find out.

Song of Lillian

Lillian lived in a nursing home in Moncks Corner, SC. It is a smaller nursing home and when full can accommodate no more than 10 people. I went to see her recently to arrange for her shoes but was told that her daughter had moved her to another nursing home in a different part of the state.

I began seeing Lillian four years ago. She would have conversations with me and was able to pick the exact shoe she liked while she told me about her children and where each one lived. At 75 Lillian was no bigger than a minute and always sat in the same chair in the television room of the home. Each time I would attempt to measure her or rub her feet or touch them in any way, Lillian would giggle in a high pitched voice like a 5 year old child. You see, Lillian was extremely ticklish.

Lillian also loved to sing. She sang Negro spirituals all the time. Although I loved it when she would burst into a song, those around her would get frustrated because heaven forbid they missed something Bob Barker or Jerry Springer might have to say. No matter, she would just sing louder.

Each year I could see Lillian’s mind deteriorate as her dementia got worse and advanced into Alzheimer’s. The last time I saw Lillian she did not know anyone around her and sat silently gazing into a world only she could see. She was no longer ticklish and I missed her girlish giggling. But, before I left, she burst into song and sang an old spiritual without faltering one bit, hitting every high note and not missing a single word. I’ve seen this with quite a few of my patients. They forget simple everyday things and yet they can continue to say their prayers and quote scripture.

This proves something I’ve known for a long time. The things of God come straight from the heart and not from the brain. I’m sure wherever Lillian is living now, she is still singing, and I am blessed that I was able to hear her and learn from her.