HISTORY BOOK

Eighty-eight year old "Ben" suffered from prostate cancer that had spread to his bones. His daughter, "Barbara", recently moved in to help as it was no longer safe for him to live alone. Ben was divorced years ago and Barbara was his only family. He had numerous friends as he was so outgoing and laughed so easily.

When I called Ben up to do my initial visit, he said, "You can only come if you bring a smile with you." The moment I walked into his apartment, he was sitting up in his recliner with a huge smile. He directed me to sit across from him and immediately started telling me stories about World War II and his years as a San Diego policeman. Ben would put a funny spin on some of the stories and just laugh. His laughter was very contagious and I would find myself laughing right along with him.

Barbara would add comments now and then as she had heard all of his stories many times over the years. She shared that he had been requested by the Veterans Administration to document his stories as World War II veteran numbers are decreasing as each year passes. Ben had always planned on doing that, but somehow never found the right time.

Ben was receptive to a hospice volunteer coming to help document his stories. Unfortunately that time never came as Ben died quietly three days later. I feel a great loss as I was looking forward to hearing more of his stories in the weeks ahead. He left an amazing legacy. I feel blessed to have met him, even though our time was brief.

ADDENDUM: I listened to my voice mail on the weekend and heard about Ben's death. It was then that I wrote the following poem. When I returned to the office two days later, I realized that is was not Ben that had died but another patient with a similar last name. Ben is alive and continues to tell his stories to family, friends and the hospice staff. A hospice volunteer is coming weekly to help document his amazing stories.


HISTORY BOOK


He was a walking history book.
He had many stories to share.
Iwo Jima, World War II,
thirty years as a beat cop.

He told of delivering four babies
during his years on street patrol.
He spoke of hitting the beaches
on foreign lands so long ago.

All of his stories were in his head.
Nothing written down on paper.
He planned on recording them some day,
but instead retold them again and again.

He loved an active audience.
He would rather talk than write.
He always thought he would have time
to have someone chronicle them all for him.

He passed away quietly yesterday morning.
All of his stories died along with him.
Pages of history have now been lost
relying on memories of what he said.

He was a walking history book
whose pages are now forever closed.
Important events one should never forget.
A remarkable legacy for one amazing man.