My father was starting end-of-life care at an Ottawa hospital and I had just arrived for what had become my daily visit. He was growing less aware and my time with him was becoming more solitary, although it was still nice to be in his company and share this way.
Today I was lucky and able to park closer to the hospital. It was a gloomy, grey day in November with a lick of wind to enhance the understanding of the coming transition into winter.
I pulled my coat together and hunched to maintain warmth as I walked to the crosswalk, and then along the path to the main entrance.
I noticed a man walking in the opposite direction, along the driveway with parked cars between us. He had a cane and was moving slowly and with poor balance. My first thought was “Where could he possibly be going without help as he looked that frail?
By now I was almost stopped, worried, yet excited for every new step this man took. Others were watching too and as he approached the crosswalk I assumed someone closer would assist him. This was not the case. He staggered across the road and up a cut in the sidewalk, gathering himself for the remainder of the journey to his vehicle.
As I turned to continue my walk there was a nagging pull to return and help but I didn’t. I assumed he would be fine and when I turned to check he was managing what was now a much shorter distance.
In this moment I realized my heartache and asked God to allow me an opportunity to try again. I knew I could be better.
No one knows how these things play out and of course, I am no different, but I have come to understand that if you choose to know you will be shown.
The next day, I was walking to the entrance and looked up. I could see Dad’s window and hoped he would be aware today, smiling knowing he always found a way.
It was then that I turned and looking back saw an elderly couple navigating the crosswalk. The woman walked half a step at a time balancing only with the help of her husband. Knowing she had help I could smile and continue on my journey but something said “no.”
I walked quickly to the main entrance, got a wheelchair from inside the doorway, and then strode back the 50-yard path to meet them.
They both looked perplexed wondering why I had come but quickly understood. I positioned the chair and set the brakes, then guided my new friend into the chair aligning her legs on the platforms, turning the chair toward the entrance, and releasing the brakes. I motioned the husband to the back of the chair and said “This looks a lot easier.” We exchanged smiles and began our walk to the entrance, mine for the second time.
It was only then that I realized what had happened.
Our beliefs often tell us that no one is listening and sometimes we need these gentle nudges to realize otherwise.
For me, this moment meant many things. I looked at my dad’s window and knew he was watching, knowing I would arrive on time. He cheered me on as never before in those last days and offered information that was so helpful and unexpected.
There was an anchoring that took place that day. Something that we all come to see and understand our way
We have separate paths, and yet there is a communal signature that aligns us. These are inherent and innate guidance systems that unless used will be forgotten.
I thank many, and of course my Dad for helping me continue to learn.
Every day is a new day and can be a new beginning!
TK
