Never Forget

There is a resident at Joseph's House who I find myself calling Mama. I always remember how long she has been with us because her first day at Joseph's House was my birthday. Mama is used to being the primary caretaker for others in her life. She was a single parent and worked multiple jobs to put her oldest grandchild through college. Her entire life revolved around providing for those that she loved. Cancer, however, is not impressed by hard work and devotion. It comes when it will and does not care that everything must stop to face it.

In spite of the cancer, Mama refuses to stop living. She has turned the attention that she gave to her jobs to everyone who comes through Joseph's House. On her first night with us, she pulled a stool into the kitchen and proceeded to peel potatoes and wash dishes while supervising what my coworkers were cooking on the stove for dinner. She spent the next few days diligently learning the name of every staff member and resident. She knows all about our families, our love lives, and our dreams for the future. She lectures everyone to wear jackets in the cold and kisses my cheek every night when I go into her room to say goodbye.

I love her. I cannot help it. I appreciate her thoughtfulness and how she tries to take care of everyone. She reminds me of my mother and my grandmother, and she in turn has introduced me to people as her grandchild. I love her and I cannot help it even though I know that she is dying. Even though every day brings us one breath closer to goodbye. Her presence feeds my spirit and I delight in her. I cannot stop loving her and that makes each day harder. Rounds of chemo have made her voice raspy and her body weak. She tells me that she is tired for no reason and I feel my heart drop because I know the fatigue is a sign of her worsening health. Her independent nature is now reduced by unsteady footsteps and frequent bouts of shortness of breath. She is dying and it is breaking my heart.

Yet in the midst of everything Mama is experiencing she still is thinking of others. One afternoon I sat side by side with her on her bed in our normal style. We were holding hands and laughing at our own jokes. She then patted my hands and said, "No matter what, honey, don't you ever forget that you help keep me alive. You save my life."

When I explain to people what I do, many ask how I can do such difficult work and not become depressed. They say that they could never do it. I wish I could tell them stories like this, how the weight of my sorrow is made bearable and even greatly diminished by the sweetness of being in relationship. I wish I could save Mama. I would carry the cancer in my own body if it would give her even one more year with her beloved grandsons. But, man, how awesome is it that for this brief time I get to revel in her love? How fortunate that I get to learn from her what it really means to love in a way that is selfless and unconditional. I will never forget.