Touched by loss. Empowered through community.


Monday, January 29, 2018
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In my mind I have the AHA moment. But it is not really a good AHA. I confront it by holding back my tears and smiling through the grief that is always with me.  I KNOW YOU! But, I stay silent, it doesn’t matter to you that I remember you; it only matters to me. 

I remember your face. I thought you were kind. We had a nice conversation something like 8 years ago, or maybe it was even 10? You don’t recognize me. That’s ok. I really don’t want to tell the story and help you remember. You were just doing your job. You probably won’t remember anyway. I am sure you have helped many. If my husband were here he’d say something jokingly like “haven’t we met before?” But, he is not, and the memories are only mine now.  You see, you were one of the many nurses who took care of my husband, and now, you are helping my daughter in the pre-op before her tonsillectomy.

I should have expected this, and perhaps I did on some level. I am in the hospital where we spent so much time those 5 years Steve was sick. The hospital where we spent a Christmas and a fourth of July and a 15th birthday.  The hallways have fresh paint and the floors are new, which helps to stifle the deja vu a bit.  But I remember it all. It is ingrained in me.

I remember you had a nice conversation with my husband. I think he said something about not having much time, and you grabbed his arm and told him you would pray for him.  My regret is not telling you how much that meant so many years ago, and how much it still means to me today. I realize now that I should have told you, it would have been hard to do, but it did matter.  


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