Christmas is coming to town

Christmas Cookies

You will be missed

Sometimes I feel like writing. It's almost like therapy, I get stuff out of my head and down onto paper. Makes things a little bit better.

When I got to work on Wednesday, I got to know that one of our patients had died five days earlier. Working in a nursing home you do know that these things will happen, but I wasn't prepared for her to leave yet. I've been working at this nursing home for almost two years, and over these months we have lost ten patients. We have 16 single rooms, which means we always have 16 patients to take care of. These patients live and die there, it's their home for the last months and years of their lives. It makes me sad to think that they can't stay at home where they have their loved ones and sorrundings they love, but it also makes me grateful that we have a place that the elders get the help they need. Working in a nursing home your heart will always be filled with memories, but some patiens really holds a piece of your heart. Some of them you will truly never forget.

This woman had lived in the nursing home for over ten years. She had been there longer than any of us employees. She was the sweetest lady, and if you met her you wouldn't know she suffered from dementia. If you sat on her walker, she would push you around. When you walked past her in the hall she would pretend like she wasn't gonna let you pass. When her son came to visit and had to leave, she would stand there waiving until she couldn't see him anymore. She always wore the most beautiful dresses, and nice necklaces and bracelets. She always had to put on lip stick at the beginning of the day. And fix her eyebrows. Whenever I helped her she would tell me she was jealous of my height. She was petite and I am tall. We would always agree that we could split our combined height. That way we could both wear heels.  

The last time I worked before she died I actually told my co-workers that when the day would come and she would be gone, the nursing home was gonna miss something. She was our mascot. Always happy and sweet. Sometimes she would be confused and didn't know why she was at the nursing home, but never angry. She was always ready to talk, and I remember her stories about the apartment building she grew up in, how her mother took care of her, the cabin she had by the lake, and the sad story about her husbands early death.

All of her stuff is gone, and someone else has her room now. Whenever I open up the door I always expect to see all of her stuff. Her pretty rose curtains, her rose bed covers and all of her pictures of near and dear ones. It's all gone. She's gone. I find it weird how fragile human life is. One moment you're there and then the next you're gone. That's the part I hate the most about working in a nursing home. You never know if someone will be gone the next time you get to work.

93 years of love, loss and happiness. I hope I can be as you were when I get older. You will be missed, little lady.