HE CRIED

Eighty-six year old “John” has been on hospice for about three months. John suffers from lung cancer, but is still fairly independent. John is divorced and lives alone. His daughter, “Debbie”, lives nearby and is devoted to her dad. Debbie will move in when John’s needs get to where he cannot be alone.

I have visited John about five times. He is an amazing man by his generosity to others. He sees life as a gift and does not complain about his predicament. He has no fears about dying. He says he doesn’t know what death is all about, but it will be what it will be.

John cares so much about others. He volunteers at a local food bank and feels honored to be able to do so. When his niece was sixteen, he had her move in with him as she was having troubles at home. She stayed with him for six years until she finished college. John gives so much to others, saying it makes him feel good to be able to do so.

I wrote a poem about John and his generosity. So often, when a situation or person touches my heart, the words just flow out so easily. I feel that oftentimes I am just the typist. After I wrote John’s poem, I proofread it and started to cry. It reflected John’s life so clearly and I felt I was able to express how beautiful a soul he is.

During my visit with John today, I brought the poem with me and read it to him. He had tears when he came over and gave me this huge hug. He was so moved and couldn’t wait to share it with his daughter. He thanked me and said it is something he will never forget.

About an hour after I left John’s home, he left me a voice message saying he was out on his porch reading the poem. He was crying so hard, he could barely get the words out. I called him back and said that I didn’t mean to make him cry. He said it was a good cry and thanked me again. I also do not have the words to thank him for the gift he gave me today. Thank you doesn’t seem to fully capture the emotions, but that is the only words I know. I only hope, that John, in receiving my gift, knows that he gave me as much as I gave him today.


HE CRIED
　

I write about my patients;
their families and their lives.
When special moments touch my heart,
the words just naturally flow.

I wrote a poem about him.
I wrote how he touched my soul.
Reading the poem after I was done,
it rang so true; I cried.

I brought the poem to give to him.
I read the words from my heart.
He got up and hugged me so tight,
while gentle tears began to show.

He read the poem after I left.
He called me on the phone.
He couldn’t find the words to thank me,
saying the poem had touched him so.

He thanked me for being a
“big part of a small part of his life.”
He said he will never forget me;
and then
         he cried.