325660's blog: "RELATIONSHIPS"

"Hi, my name is Trixie… it's so nice to meet you", I say for the fourth time, sadly to the same person. I have been enjoying Sunday Brunch with Hazel for several months now, but lately she forgets who I am. Hazel is 96 years old and suffers from dementia. Pleasant chattering around the breakfast table is interrupted yet again by Hazel's query, "And who are you young lady?" She looks at me with a puzzled, yet smiling face. "Hi, my name is Trixie… it's so nice to meet you." I respond with a smile. Within minutes Hazel and I become good friends, sharing stories and laughing together, enjoying the company of the other ladies at our table. These are precious moments that I treasure and tuck away, because I know they will soon become rare. It doesn't matter how many times Hazel and I meet for the "first time" during brunch, we always become good friends. We were MEANT to be friends. I think that during the course of our lives there are certain people that we are just MEANT to be friends with. It doesn't matter what our circumstances are or where we live, fate finds a way to draw us together. Almost from the start a connection is felt. A bond develops as we learn more about each other and we realize that this can't be a coincidence. How can two people have so much in common, share so many of the same dreams and feelings? How can we know each other's thoughts, understanding without the need for words? The sense is that we must be kindred spirits, soulmates, that we have a very special and unique friendship. Yet are these friendships meant to last forever or were they designed to serve a particular purpose, to meet a specific need at a specific time? Perhaps a kindred spirit came into your life quite unexpectedly, and only after a while did you realize that the purpose of that friendship was to carry you through a trial, support you in difficulty, be the anchor that you needed as life tossed you to and fro. And now that the seas have settled and life is moving on, that friendship has diminished, maybe even ended. There are times when I lament a lost friendship. The promise of "friends forever" now rings hollow in my ears. I question how two souls that were so connected can now be miles apart... Eventually realizing that the fault is no one's, I have come to accept that perhaps that friendship was for a season, was for a reason. And with this, I have come to appreciate what we shared and the time that we were MEANT to have together.

If you've read my blog "SUNDAY BRUNCH" you know about the wonderful group of sweet old ladies I've adopted as my family. The time I pass with them means more to me than anything else in my life. My dear friend Muriel recently. She was 94 years old. Muriel was one of the warmest, most compassionate people I have every known. She was a nurse and served as a missionary in Africa for 55 years until her retirement at age 75. Muriel never married. Rather she chose to dedicate her life to helping the poor African children in any way she could, and when she couldn't help them to live, she cradled them as they died. Hundreds of dying children passed through her arms into the arms of her God. She was a blessing to all that knew her. Muriel fell recently while strolling the grounds at the retirement residence and crushed her hip on the edge of the sidewalk. At that age the bones are often too brittle to heal and in Muriel's case, surgery was not possible. I visited her as often as I could and saw her declining rapidly. The hospital was told to call me if she came close to her end. That call came one Saturday morning. Unfortunately I was on my weekly hike to my waterfall and didn't know about the call. However after I got home from my hike and was preparing to go out again, I had the strong impression that I was needed at the hospital. I went there directly and thankfully I wasn't too late. Muriel was restless and incoherent, struggling to breathe. The nurses could not help her to calm down. I went to her side and called her name. Her wide eyes focused on me, she mouthed words I couldn't understand but I knew she was scared. I crawled into bed beside her, put my arms around her and rested her head upon my chest. I stroked her soft white hair and told her how much I loved her and that she had nothing to be afraid of. As I continued to sooth her with my voice and my hands, her struggling stopped and I could feel her relax against me. We lay like that for some time. Her breathing continued to slow down, stopping for 10 seconds, then a breath, stopping again, then a breath, until finally there were no more breaths. Muriel died peacefully in the arms of someone who loved her very much. A fitting end for a special lady who had done the same for so many others during her life.

Sunday Brunch is the highlight of my week. It's a time that I can spend with some special ladies I've adopted as my family. My parents were killed when I was 17 years old and I have no siblings or extended family, so I am always eager to make new friends. Every now and again, someone really special touches my heart and I adopt them as family. Betty is one of those people. Betty is 90 years old and lives in a Seniors' Residence close to my home. I met her one day in the sweet little park that is nestled in our neighbourhood. She had gone there to watch the children play, something I like to do as well. It wasn't long before we were chatting and laughing together at the antics of the little rascals who knew they had an audience. As we talked and shared our life stories, I found out that Betty was a widow with no children and alone in the world just like me. We decided right there and then, that we should become friends. Betty is so warm and funny, and so wise. Her eyes have a special twinkle and when she looks at you, you feel like she can see the real you and she accepts you just as you are. We've grown to love each other as family. I join Betty for Sunday Brunch at the residence each week and over the last 2 years have adopted other sweet old ladies into my family. Frieda, Mary, Muriel and Hazel, all without family to encourage them in the final stage of their lives. Our times together are happy and full of stories, laughter and singing. We joke and tease each other and have lots of fun. Sunday Brunch has become the most important meal of the week for all of us. Yet these delightful women are nearing the end of their journey here on earth. Last year Frieda, age 96, reached the end. I was with her and held her as she took her final breath. Six months ago, I was with Mary as she left us too. Though these were sad times, they were special times too. Times of extreme closeness. Times that I actually made a difference in someone's life, by being with them at their death. There will be an ebb and flow to my circle of friends at the residence. Some will leave us like Frieda and Mary, and new friends will join us like Muriel and Hazel. Each one is special to me in a different way and for a different reason. They make my life better.