Years Well Spent
by jaelpn | 770 Views | 2 Comments
Written in loving memory of all those we have taken care of throughout our years of nursing experience. The ones that have touched our hearts as we have walked this journey with them. The man as well as the names are fictional- but this came to me as inspiration early one morning and I began to write. I hope it touches you in some way, as it did me as the story just drifted onto paper. I placed myself for a moment, into the shoes of an elderly man... and this is written in a simple man's voice. Let it be heard.
- 6 Published Oct 15, '13
I once was a young boy- at the age of 8. Daddy took me fishin' and mama would bake.
My first car was a chevy, and a travelin' I went. Through the city and towns, freedom I felt, joy it sent.
The army drafted me in, as I walked out the door for the last time, daddy placed his hand on my shoulder and wished the world to be kind.
Mama cried as she walked me down the aisle- the day I married my sweetheart- never to be apart was the truth in my heart.
Susie was born, and then little John, that was a special moment- becoming a father, a true bond.
My Daddy got sick, his tired eyes had closed. The day we buried him, God needed him more I suppose.
My children were growin' up, experiencing life for a while. The day I walked my little girl down the aisle, I put on a great big ol' smile.
Mama has been gone for a few years, went to be with my ol' man, sometimes my eyes still mourn with tears and I think of them often as I can.
As I sat with my wife, the news the cancer had spread. I felt like I was drownin', not knowing how much longer I could tread.
A long-stemmed rose I placed on my dear wife, a kiss on the forehead, oh I felt so much strife.
I'm sittin' in my rocking chair, the silence is almost too much to bear.
My mind is slippin', I forget where I left my keys. Sometimes I place my shoe on the wrong foot, or I can't get my fingers to button up my jeans.
I don't go places without worrying about wetting my pants, my dignity is shaken, I often go in rants.
I remember only some things, but my words don't come out right. I keep trying to tell someone how I feel,but all it seems to do is upset me and they think I want to fight.
My hands are shaking, I drop my glass on the floor. I didn't mean to do it, my vision is poor.
Maybe I was mistaken, maybe I need more help. Maybe it is ok to cry, it's often how I felt.
You walk me in to my new home, the colors are vibrant, the smiling faces welcome me in. The journey to a second life is about to begin.
The people are friendly, they help me with my shoes. If I'm having a bad day, they tell me it will be ok and help me make the right decision to choose.
As I'm resting my head on my pillow at night, I praise the good Lord for a place that feels just right.
The food is real good, they take care of all my clothes. My hair is gray, my wrinkles are set in, age has changed me and it often shows.
My family comes and visits me, the grandkids sit on my lap. A grin spreads across my face as they call me 'pap'.
My days are getting shorter, my body is weak. My family is all around me, comfort I do seek.
Daddy is waitin' for me, mama is too, my wife is ready for me to join her, for love never ends.
I worked so hard, raised my family. When I grew tired, and weak, no one ever gave up on me.
Thank you for all that everyone has done, my life was lived well, and I am finally called back Home.Last edit by Joe V on Oct 16, '13
jaelpn has '4+ nursing, 12 years medical field' year(s) of experience and specializes in 'Assisted living- dementia care'. From 'Somewhere, IL'; 30 Years Old; Joined Dec '05; Posts: 47; Likes: 241.