For more than 20 years I’ve been volunteering at the Jewish Home for the Aged.
I mostly visit with residents but also help on the Alzheimer’s unit, generally in the dining room. Coming to the Home every week has become part of my life, and I miss it when I’m away on vacation.
When I came one day, I saw written up on the board that J.L. had died. He was not one of my favorite people; he was rather grouchy and uncommunicative. I had noticed that he was quite sick the last few weeks.
During the past week’s visit, one of the nurses must have thought I could help when she said, “You know, Esther, Jack is dying and he is all alone. Would you go in for a while and hold his hand, just be with him?”
I looked at her very surprised. This has never been asked of me and I thought, “I’ll just look in and see how he is. If he carries on, I’ll be out of there fast.”
I looked into the room and there was Jack quietly breathing with the help of oxygen and looking quite relaxed. I took his hand and looked around the room. Jack’s dresser and board was full with old and some new family photos.
Without really thinking about it I said, “You have a nice family, Jack.” And then I was thinking, “What are you doing, Esther, talking to a man who is either sleeping or in a coma?”
And then another thought came to me. Maybe somebody did for my mother and father what I could not do because I was not present — what I was able to do for Jack. Maybe.