Today one of my favorite people came in for a chat. She keeps her weekly visits brief, always punctuated with calm smiles and generous doses of humanity. Today, though, the conversation turned, and I learned more about her husband, and the challenges he's faced since his brain injury a few years ago. She shared about his depression, and their collective frustration over his short-term memory.
All I could do was nod and listen, and hand her tissues.
I thought of a hundred ideas to share, but today, I think she just needed someone to talk to. Somebody who could relate. That somebody was me today.
Less than an hour after she left, the phone rang, and I learned that someone who had listened to me for countless hours over the past six years, had died. I'm having a delayed reaction to this, and I can't fathom that someone who was so strong for so many is not here any longer.
Dr. C. was pragmatic, and sensible, and funny. She was also a laser beam - able to look squarely at a problem, and then get you to talk about ways to cope with it. She asked the questions that we were often too tired, or close to, or frightened, to ask.
Dr. C. made us dig for, and expand, our internal resources, but at the end of every time together, you were better for it. That newly-discovered strength made us stronger for the people we cared about.
Maybe that's her legacy: she imbued so much encouragement and hope to others, that now that same strength is still going out into the universe, to the people who need it most.
Be well.
