I love giving and receiving hugs.  Jimmie I wish I were with you.  I would give you a big, long, wholesome hug of loving-kindness.  And in doing so offer you whatever comfort and peace that I could.  But geography and circumstance rule.  This is not possible. 

But what is possible?  If everyone reached out with a compassionate hug or the holding of hand to every hurting soul that they met, then I believe it would be a much nicer world. 

When a hurting soul meets a compassionate soul, wonderful things happen.

I just returned from a shift this evening as a hospice resident support volunteer.  I spent time with a dying woman whose husband had died many years ago.  I sat and spoke with her distraught daughter.  I also spent time with another person who was going through some very very tough personal times, but was slowly on the mend.

These three people had one need in common.  There was no one there to hold their hand, to hold them in their arms.  Somehow I was able to feel that a holding of a hand and a hug was needed and I held them tenderly.  In all three cases, my gesture was well received. 

I am not trying to “toot my own horn” by writing this.  I sincerely hope that those who read these words will understand the power of human touch.  I hope that people will reach out to those around them accordingly.  The bonus is the wonderful feeling that will stay with you for a long, long time.

And hey, if someone who lives near you Jimmy, reads this and reaches out and hugs you, then I hope you think of me and say, “Hey, was that an indirect hug from Michael?”

-        Michael

Hello Nouce

I will say “Happy Birthday” to you.  Why?  Well for me my birthday brings out my “better self”, my “inner child”, if you will.  My “inner child” says, “I want to feel special.  I want to feel good.  I want to bathe in the warm waters of the love and caring that others have for me.”  I know it’s selfish, but that is the nature of children.  On my birthday, for this one day, I relish in it – guilt free.  So sweet, precious girl, feel the love that comes to you from each and every one of your VirtualFriends here at Virtual Hospice.

You said, “You can't say that even to friends, so it's very lonely.”  Nouce, pardon my “but-in-ski” here, but YES YOU CAN.  Most people have no idea how dear they are to others and how willing others are to hear the truth, the raw pain and then offer comfort through “active listening”.  Of course you must choose those people carefully, but deep in your heart you know who they are.

Do reach out to those near you.  Don’t feel like you are imposing upon them.  You are not.  In fact if you do not allow them to comfort you, I believe that you might deny them a wonderful gift.  What gift?  The gift that they will receive later as their “better selves” reassure them that they are a good, kind, caring compassionate person.  Many people never hear those words spoken about them and to them.  So it is important to have these feelings be reinforced and to be allowed to have these life-sustaining thoughts grow inside of ourselves.

I share some sweet words with you that were written by Marc Chernoff:  

“In the midst of hard times, it’s easy to look around and see a bunch of people who seem to be doing just fine. But they’re not. We’re all struggling in our own way. And if we could just be brave enough to open up about it, and talk to each other, we’d realize that we are not alone in feeling lost and alone.  When you hear yourself say, “I am all alone,” it’s just your worried mind trying to sell you a lie. There’s always someone who can relate to you. Perhaps you can’t immediately talk to them, but they are out there.” 

Ps  We at Virtual Hospice certainly are.

~eKim

Dear Nouce:

In response to a previous entry of my own, you wrote, "I believe overwhelmed  and angry push us to resentfulness... family and friends close to our situation seem to mostly play it down because our journey is so much slower and less shocking than they expected."

Just recently, on your birthday you wrote, "...all I can think is this is the year my husband will either die, or he won't - and whichever way it goes it will be hard.  You can't say that even to friends, so its lonely."

Your words have resonated deeply within me.  They create, as I read them, a darkened room similar to the one I have found myself inhabiting.  Others visit me there with gifts of consolation - some of genuine comfort to me, some more of comfort to themselves. But when those visitors leave, I am left in the company of my room's more permanent residents - weariness, loneliness, anger, and despair - as you seem to be.

For a while now, I have been looking for a key that would free me from this room, some magical route out and away. But perhaps there is no such thing - no easy way out no matter how others might suggest otherwise when they "play it down."  Perhaps there is only, in time, a slow settling down into the silence and the sorrow, an acceptance of sorts, a kind of surrender. Not that I have reached that point yet.  In my anger and grief, I still struggle with such a surrender.  Acceptance, surrender does not come easily to me and I am loath to give in to it, angrily resistant. Nevertheless, it remains there in the distance like a comforting and grieving parent, waiting for me in my sorrow, and anger and loneliness; waiting for me to relent - to settle down in to this sorrow and weariness, to grow still that it might provide a kind of rest, and peace so that I might endure,  might continue, might be of some purpose.

It sometimes seems to me, Nouce, that at it's center, almost out of sight, the universe continues to give back to us, that such is the intention of its heart. Not that I am always aware of this (and I am ready to admit that such an intimation might be more hope than understanding), but it does seem to me at times that such is the case - that through one means or another - a person, a community, a place, an event - the universe seeks to heal and comfort us, that a kind of spring does return to sustain and perhaps revive us - however slowly, however achingly. Difficult, difficult, difficult - yes - undeniably so.

 I have taken your words, Nouce, and pinned them on the wall of my darkened room.  They are sacred to me.  They relieve me of my loneliness in their truth, their resonance, their kinship.  Though I have never heard the tenor of your voice or had the pleasure of your company, I count you now as my friend. I hope that friendship is not an encumbrance, or intrusion for you.  We shall live in our own darkened rooms.  We shall inhabit our own griefs, angers, and despairs in keeping with the trauma of our lives.  We shall settle into our own sorrows - perhaps more often alone than with others.  Such is the way of things at times.  But, I want you to know that I hold you as precious, and I shall continue to hold you as precious - today, next month, next year. In my own despair, I shall hope for you and offer you my support and affection - that your weariness might grow lighter, your loneliness less crushing.

I have pinned your words to my wall, Nouce.  You have taken up residence in my heart. I am the richer for your presence there. I am neither ahead of, or behind you - but rather side by side.  I take comfort in your presence there.  I hope, in some way, you might do the same.     

Jim

Thank you, Jim,

Your reflections have become "a lamp for the path" for me and I hope others. I never thought I would find myself as "precious" in a chat room! It's so rare that I have been precious in "real life." It makes me both laugh and cry. But I am grateful to you, and offer you a place in my heart, and the others who are part of these places where we go on.

Nouce

JIm

My thaks go to you also. I have read your response several times. You have been able to put into words how I feel. I want to thank you for putting yourself out there and sharing your feelings. It isn't easy to acknowledge those feelings. It helps me to know that others have the same feelings.

We tend to hide how we real feel and don't let others know. It has been hard for me to accept the care of others as I have always been teh "stronge one" when inside I have been struggling. But I am learning to lean on friends and accept what they can give. No it isn't like having the support of a loving spouce, but it is all I have now.

Thank you,

vj