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| Volume 25 Number 11 November 2023 |
Page 10 |
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| Volume 25 Number 11 November 2023 |
Page 10 |
They Came Last…
Jerry R. Kendall
I had visited her before and had heard the same words. “I’m waiting for my son and his family. They might come see me today. I sure want to see them again.” No, she was not forgetful, just hopeful. Again, Mildred sat alone. Her hands, freckled with age, rested nervously on her lap. She wore her prettiest dress. Her hair was beautiful, and she held a picture of her son and his family. Proudly, she said, “My son got me this dress a couple years ago. It’s sure pretty, isn’t it?”
Her nursing home room spoke of springtime. There were daisies in a vase, a poinsettia blooming outside her window and birds fluttering in the trees. “Sundays are special, you know. We used to get together as a family and spend the whole day with one another,” she said. I thought to myself how memory was not always a blessing.
Her wall spoke of her love for her family. She again showed me each picture and talked about them. “That’s my grandson, Dwight, holding Sparkie” (family dog). ‘‘He’s a fine young man.” “Don’t you think Bill and Angie make a good-looking couple?” One by one, we talked about each picture. The one at which she always paused the longest was that of her husband and her cutting their 50th anniversary cake. “It would have been 57 years this June. I can’t believe he’s been gone so long; I sure miss him.” Again, a tear of love went down her cheek. “They came to see me on my birthday last August,” she remarked. It was as if she were trying to defend them for not coming. “Bill is very busy and doesn’t have much time.” She showed me a card taped to her mirror. ‘‘It’s hard for him to get away and visit me.” I wondered how hard it could be to drive thirty-five miles monthly to see one who loves and misses you! Was it a matter of distance or desire?
Mildred is not bedridden or decrepit. Her only ailment is simply growing older. She is not senile and hasn’t had a stroke. Her disease is more severe. She suffers from loneliness, family rejection and unneeded abandonment. This picture is often repeated.
Our society has little time or room for the aging. Mildreds come in scores. We are usually told no one deliberately forgets them, and maybe that’s why it’s so painful. If there were a reason, a fight, a mistake, etc. one might begin to understand why visits are so few, but not visiting the aged is usually just downright unintentional neglect.
It does not matter how nice the convalescent facility is, how caring the nurses are or how sweet others who come by for a visit may be. No one replaces a son’s warm hug and kiss or a grandchild’s happy, “I love you, Grandma.” Someone penned:
Spend all your love on her now.
Forget not the hands, though spotted,
The hair, though thinning, the eyes,
though dim. They are all a part of you.
When they are gone, a part of you is gone.
“They came last…” Mildred sighed, longingly as she looked out the window at the passing cars. ‘‘I called them, and they said they might come. I will be waiting when they do. Maybe we can go out and eat.” Are there those who we need to not neglect? Shut-ins need to know that we love them and have not forgotten them. Is there a Mildred we need to visit? She will be waiting for us! Let’s not leave our aged loved ones sitting alone with just memories. “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; Do not forsake me when my strength fails” (Psalm 71:9 NKJV).
