Dearest Readers,

Lately, I’ve been writing about death as I prepare to give a talk at our local YMCA on Saturday for the “Y Break Bread” supper series.

This may sound like a serious topic for Seniors but I’m approaching the D word with a light heart and a sense of humour.

Here’s an excerpt of the talk:

At the long-term care home where I provide spiritual care, I watched the practice of deep listening transform a man named Fred.

Fred was the grumpiest man in the world. The Grinch had nothing on him. He would wheel himself around the home with a scowl on his face, grunt at you if you spoke to him, make fun of you if you said something nice, and insult people behind their backs.

I fell in love with him. I did. Not in a romantic way but in the way of true friendship. I got to know Fred intimately and I got to see the man behind the grump.

And Fred was a gentleman. He would do things for people, little courtesies. One of his table mates liked jam so Fred would put the little packages on her placemat every morning.

Fred was like the Hooded Fang in Mordecai Richler’s “Jacob Two-Two” book, he’d give you candy when you weren’t looking and deny the credit for doing it.

When I first went to visit Fred, he reluctantly let me into his room. But the more I showed up, the more he welcomed me.

Fred complained about everything. Nothing was good enough and everybody was an idiot. But I didn’t try to convince him things were better, I didn’t deny his negativity and try to get him to look at the bright side. I listened and nodded. Sometimes I laughed. I allowed him to be himself. Fully himself, without trying to change him.

And guess what? Fred started to smile. He started to tell jokes. I found out that he actually had a great sense of humour. (Okay, often it was at other people’s expense but he could really tell a joke.)

One day I asked Fred if he was afraid to die.

“Die?” he said, “Why would anyone be afraid to die? It only takes a minute. Just like getting your tooth pulled. Open up and say ‘ah’.”

My friendship with Fred taught me that when we accept someone for who they are and give them the space to be themselves, they will begin to trust that it’s okay to be themselves. Fred softened his hard shell, shed his armour and allowed his true self to be seen.

I call this the miracle of unconditional love. When we offer someone that gift in their later years and they allow themselves to receive it, it can heal their soul.

From the fires of love,

Celia