I have been meaning to write about a few things I have observed during this latest chapter of our lives. The one where everyone knows your Room Number and not your name. The one where everyone watches for which rooms become empthy. The one where sometimes you can here someone say, "Well...Room 7 is still here". It is like there is a cohort...of both room inhabitants and thier families. It feels like bizzaro world sometimes but has become like home...sort of.
Even though we are in a hospice facility, I still smile and laugh. Sometimes people look at me like I am weird (I know...I know...people always look at me like I'm weird). I make jokes. That is how Grandma would want me to be. She has a great sense of humor...so why not keep some happy around us. There is no right or wrong in this dance.
Several times as I sat in my car atop the hill of Muncaster Mill Road to turn into Casey House, a car coming in the opposite direction would stop and wave me in...even though they had a green light. It was so profound...they knew where I was going...and took an extra second out of their day to make it easier for me. It happened more than one and it made me feel good each and everytime.
You smile and wave to those you run into on a regular basis. It hit me today while I was there that I missed the family in Room #9...we shared the table one day at lunch time with them. It made me stop and realize that our cohort is growing smaller.