(For my Hero)
They wait for him. He is the highlight and the sunlight of their
day. Some cannot see him, but his voice, energy and words manage to clear out
existential blurriness and sprinkle laughter over their achy bodies and souls. His
spark warmly strokes their hearts, sending my mind directly to Henry V…
Oh, that
unforgettable 4th act prologue.
I see overwhelming suffering
everywhere I look. The air is soaked in stomach turning smells. I hear dulled
unbearable pain. I almost can’t breathe. I am surrounded by expressionless
expressions, marginal or evasive consciousness, and my heightened compassion is
battling with my acute urge to run out and never come back. Hope. Where is the
hope. Where do they go from here. What do they know, want to know, able to
know, refuse to know. Life keeps them going. Life force makes me ponder
its meaning, and oh so typically…the meaning of life.
Entering a room, his voice instantly softens the gloomiest despair,
and you can almost see the warmest wave taking over the space. He smiles and
they smile. He tells a joke and they laugh. He offers them a special brand of
hope; he customizes compliments and fills their eyes, those mirrors of their
souls, with comforting glee and cheerful memories.
How does he do it? His strength, energy, presence, humor and unique
conduct radiate healing powers. Everyone
here is so profoundly touched by him; I see it in the glowing smiles on staff
and patients’ faces as they greet him in the long somber corridors. You can
almost touch the atmosphere change that he brings about.
I walk next to him,
filled to the brim with admiration, gratitude and love. I am proud, oh so
proud. My man. MY man.
I look at him attentively while I hold his hand tighter,
subconsciously attempting to transfuse him with energetic fuel, just in case.
And we walk out to the rarely sunny and warm winter day.
