Life is bearable because there is hope

A friend of mine died of leukemia a few months ago. He retired about three years ago and then was suddenly taken ill. Two weeks ago, I went with a colleague to visit his widow. She treated us at a restaurant to dim sum, a customary meal of local Chinese people.

Sundays are family days, and many families go for morning dim sum together. If your friends are visiting, they will be treated, as well. The widow’s son, daughter-in-law and 1-year-old granddaughter were all there. She seemed to be coping well, and we chatted away merrily. Soon, it was time to leave, and she came with us to the minibus stop to see us off. Suddenly, she told us, “I still miss him terribly,” and then burst into tears.

Life must be unbearable for her, because they were married for almost four decades and were very close. My colleague tried to comfort her by asking her to be brave, and to think of her current responsibilities of looking after the rest of her family and her granddaughter. We were in a public place and didn’t really have the chance to talk in depth. She stopped sobbing, and then we parted.

After I got home, I kept thinking of her—her grief and her loss. I wrote her a card. I wish I had had more time and been in a quieter place with her, so that she could cry her heart out. I wish I had had the courage to stop my colleague from talking. The woman needed a chance to express her true feelings.

As a nurse, I am expected to know how to therapeutically communicate with people in need. But, sometimes, I find myself tongue-tied, especially when I am with friends. I do not pretend to know how other people feel, because I don’t. I can’t. I can only imagine. But every individual’s experience is private and special. Nobody else can experience something in the exact same manner. Often, it is good enough simply to be there and listen. Let the person’s grief flow out. It is only in companionship that we feel supported. It is only in telling that we start to heal.

I often tell my students it is unnecessary to fill every moment with sounds when you are with a patient. The ability to tolerate needed silence in a conversation says much about a person’s skills in communication.

Although I am concerned about my friend’s wife, who is now a widow, I think time will be her best friend. The family is close, and she finds immense joy in playing an important part in her granddaughter’s life. In a young life, one can see joy and hope. We can find pure joy in simple matters in a child. Looking at him or her, we see hope for a happier, better future.

Life becomes bearable because there is hope.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Honor

I read this piece of news in the papers. A father sold his home and then worked very hard every day with his wife, making fishing nets to pay off his deceased sons’ debt. Three of his four sons died in a super storm four years ago, owing huge sums of money. The couple is expected to work for years to come, in order to finish paying their sons’ debt. The father said he would do this for his sons. He is honoring his sons by paying their debt. It is not just the love of a father or a strong sense of responsibility that compels the man to do this. I call it honor. He is an honorable man. He is now 82 years old.

I see honorable seniors every day in Hong Kong. They may be old, and some may be a little messy. They are those ordinary people to whom you may not give a second glance when you meet them in the street. Some can be rather peculiar in their behavior, but they are all honorable people to me, just the same. They are respecting life by doing the best they can.

I see many seniors selling all sorts of stuff on the streets. I don’t think they are trying to make money. I doubt they can make good money out of the items they sell—pediclips, hairclips, buttons, rubber bands, candies and so on, which are usually worth no more than a few dollars. What I see is that they are trying to spend their time doing something useful.

An older woman listening to a Walkman and selling goods in a bag; an older man scrubbing the outer shell of an electric fan to remove the rust; a barber cutting hair on a pedestrian walkway under a bridge; a group marking their place every morning outside the train station to collect used free newspapers from passersby for recycling: All these sights tell me about seniors’ ingenuity in finding meaningful occupations for themselves. I find it an admirable virtue.

Senior cleaning rusty fan.

Fan repair king.

Selling phones and other electronic devices.

Seniors collect and recycle newspapers.

Senior retailer interacts with customer.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.