I can’t get her out of my mind.
I am incredibly shocked by the deepness of my memory, but I am disappointed as well. I am shocked because some days I simply sit and marvel at my ability to remember such details about the past. However, times live these when I try to remember a person’s face and fail, I am disappointed.
A couple of weeks ago I visited a nursing home. I don’t visit nursing homes. I wish I did. Part of me wants to change this and part of me doesn’t. We’ll see what part of me wins in the end. As of present, I wish. Anyways, I visited a nursing home for a class assignment. To be completely honest, when I walked through the doors of the nursing home I had no expectation to be touched or to learn something new. Well, as days pass I find how incredibly stupid I was for not desiring to learn. Then again, the best lessons are the ones I’m never prepared for!
The who time I was in the nursing home (about two and a half hours), I had a hard time focusing on the people there. I honestly wanted to be done and go. I kept looking at the time and I let the other group members take control. I’m really good at letting others do so.
I never expected to be touched.
I guess it’s a great thing that God doesn’t work based off of any of my expectations. I spoke about Dorothy in class today and each time I’ve thought about her today, my heart has yearned to comfort her. Out of everything she told me, the part I keep remembering is when she told me how she’s lost her son. Each time I remember her, my memory reminds me of the pain seen in her eyes. This indescribable pain that only a mother (and father) can feel. Looking back now I wish I could have reached out and took her hand. I wish I could have silently provided comfort.
I didn’t comfort her with words, because nothing I said would comfort her. I couldn’t possibly relate. I didn’t comfort her with affection (I wished I had). I wish I could go back in time. However, I comforted her back with my eyes. I felt her burden. I felt the loss.
Dorothy. I wish I could just hug her and keep her there for a while. Those gentle eyes taught me a great deal.