This day

I hear all the time that people do not understand how I work for Hospice. For the most part, I am able to easily compartmentalize my job from the rest of my life. It's not usually something that's even difficult for me. My mom can attest to this, she has accused me of being made of stone all of my life. While I prefer not to believe such an accusation, I don't tend to get emotional very often. Today was a good day. Chris and I were both off work. Natalie spent the night with Robert and Joene so we slept late this morning. We went to Denny's for breakfast (my favorite, don't know why, it just is), then we picked up Natalie and took advantage of living in Florida. We went to the beach. Natalie was not sure about the water at first. It didn't take her long though and she was telling us to sit on the blanket because she would be back. Much to her dismay, we didn't let her venture into the ocean alone. At one point Natalie was literally running circles around Chris. Then she took his hand and escorted him to the water's edge. She asked him to sit beside her. I could hear her giggle as the water rolled in and out under her. She was talking with Chris and looking around. They were both laughing. I then realized why people like the ocean. It takes away all the bad stuff. It doesn't matter what you do to the sand, the waves come in and put it back. Natalie and Chris made a huge hole today. They put some sand back in the hole and after a few waves it was filled back in, as if nothing had happened. I thought about the girl, younger then me, sitting in my office crying so hard this week. Her mom is dying. Her fiance was killed last month. She has more on her plate then I can fathom. I thought about the man whose ex refuses to allow him to die in peace. She thinks he is lying about being sick or is somehow doing this to get back at her. She is one of those Truman show people who believe the world starts and stops revolving as she enters the room. I can assure her, it does not. I thought about the very young man in a care facility with a rare form of dementia. And his wife, a recent breast cancer survivor who just needed to talk this week. She'd give anything I bet for the ocean to wash her husband's dementia away. "Mommy, come here." I can hear the ocean again. There's my little girl yelling for me to come and sit with Daddy and her. I get up and dust myself off appreciating the moment for what it is. A rare and precious time that will go far too quickly. I know I'll blink and she'll be going to the beach with her friends. I know I'm not guaranteed any amount of time with either of them. This job does not make me dwell on death. No. It does the opposite. It makes me appreciate life. I treasure more giggles, take in more hugs, let the dishes pile higher, then I would if I worked anywhere else. We go the beach just to go. We get sandy because it's funny. We run in circles and dig holes just because we can. I sneak in at nap time and watch her sleep, just to thank God for her. I pray for at least 86 sets of parents. Why 86? Because at my last check, that's how many children were in pediatric care program in hospice. This job makes me appreciate life for the gift it is. God has given us this day. Natalie is in bed, and my only April 25th with her as a one year old is done. I'm really glad we spent it together sitting next to Daddy letting the water wash all around us. It was a very good day.