• The D Word

    • February 20, 2024 5:38 pm

    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

    Day Eleven

    • June 17, 2010 4:32 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Hitting the road again again after being in Kitchener four days during the Magnetic North Theatre Festival. Tomorrow I get on a plane and fly to the Bahamas to lead Cultivate Your Courage. The weekly weather page for Bahamas on the iPhone has seven straight clouds with ferocious-looking lightening bolts. Should be an interesting week.

    On my way back to Montreal today I will be passing through Port Hope, Ontario, where I lived for three years before I moved back to the Yukon in 2004. My grandparents on my mother’s side still live there, as do her 3 sisters. I’ll be stopping in to see them as I pass.

    My grandparents are quite elderly and though they have managed to stay in their own home until now (with lots of outside help) the time has come for them to move into a senior’s residence. It will be an enormous change for them and though my grandmother is scared she is ready to go. My grandfather, to say the least, is less than thrilled about the move.

    When I lived in Port Hope I went over to see them every single day. I had left Montreal to look after my parents’ second home in Port Hope. It was a sweet deal. I got to live in plantation-style home, they got a property manager.

    In Montreal I had been working in both a seniors’ residence and a nursing home. Both jobs gave me insight into the aging process and appreciation for the elder experience. I also had a knack for working with old folks. My daily visits to my grandparents were rooted in service work. I went there to give them unconditional love and care once a day, without fail.

    Last night when I called my grandparents to tell them I was coming, my grandfather, who has trouble hearing (and listening) said, “I know I’m not supposed to say this but I think of you as a special granddaughter. The time we spent together when you were here was a wonderful period in our lives.”

    The last time I visited I said good-bye to them. And the time before that. Every time I go there I know it may be the last. So today I get to see them and say another good-bye. I considered zooming right past the town and skipping the visit altogether. Port Hope is nestled right beside the highway and it would make my day so much easier. But Life is not always about choosing the easy path.

    Yesterday the wind was as strong as I’ve ever felt it. The force was almost hurricane-like. I watched it whip the trees and pushed against it as I walked and remembered suddenly that I’d dreamt of a tornado the night before. In the dream, I saw the twister in the distance coming toward me. I remember being afraid.

    My job today is to go and be present with my grandparents. To give them love and support as the winds of change blow through their fragile lives. May it pass through without too much destruction.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: When I want to avoid the difficult emotional territory that comes with familial relationships I will remember that Unconditional Love heals all wounds. It is a Force of Nature, more powerful than anything else in the world.