Anguish of the Soul

Walking down the hallway I hear the small voice of what I think is a small child singing joyfully as she plays...As I pass the door from which the sound emulates I see an old woman caught in an earlier time zone forever...

The nurses say she plays all day and sometimes all night, but at least she is happy where she is.



Further down the hall I hear wails and moans of others in time warps of agony and anguish...Souls that are soooo sorrowful...An old gentleman not understanding where he is or why, begging tearfully, "Please help me go home. Help me find home. I just want to go home". Anguish of the soul.



Two doors down a man steps out of his room, grabs both my hands and with tears streaming explains, " I was so close to him in the woods. Why couldn't I see him in time...Why did my son die...I was so close. Why couldn't I see him lying there." Nurses aids explained he had lost a 7 year old son to death in an accident in the woods  many years ago and if the child had been found sooner could possibly have lived. The man is caught in a time warp forever reliving that fateful day over and over...Anguish of the soul.



Closer to room B-127 sobbing from the depths of his heart, Mr. Jones buries his soul mate over, and over, and over...Anguish of the soul.



I reach B-127 and daddy says with a smile and a twinkle of his cloudy blue eyes, "Hey, Baby." and puckers up for a hug and kiss. He still knows me, he still cherishes my touch, he still knows how much I love him. "Want to take a spin in your chair and get out of this room a while?" I ask. "yeah" as he nods yes. He is happy to see his oldest grandson-my son-Les.



We go down to a secluded little room called the quiet room. He has been sitting up in the wheelchair for hours waiting for his bed to be made. The nursing home is really short on staff but his favorite person there, a middle aged black man, sees us going down the hall and tells him he will come for him when the bed is ready. We talk for a while; he wonders why he is left on earth living seemingly to him for no reason. He cannot do anything for himself; cannot see the pastures he lovingly labored over for so many years; cannot see crops sprouting, smell fresh hay, smell the silage as it ferments. Tears stream as he misses his beloved horses. "Don't cry daddy. You know I can't stand to see you cry." If only I could make it better, but I can't.



"Les, can I lay on the couch and put my head in your lap?" he asks. Les and I get him up and on the couch. He places his head on Les's lap as a pillow. I move closer, sit on the floor and hold his hand...He sleeps peacefully for two hours... His lunch is brought to the quiet room by the aid he likes so well..I don't wake him...This moment is too precious...If he awakes he may still be sad and now he is content...When he awakens, I have the pleasure of feeding him much the same way he did me as a child. He takes a bite, wants me to take a bite because he worries that I don't eat right, so I take a bite. We share what could have been a bland experience and turn it into a pleasurable one simply by sharing the experience.



The aid comes in to announce his bed is ready now....We start back to B-127, "I'm so tired and worn out. The doctors say I can't get better, yet I can't die. I don't understand." he says to us and to himself. How can I get back to the smiling man I had when I first entered the room today? I get him into bed, cover him up and rub his forehead and take him back in memory to the day Old Gramp and I brought up my first colt, the day my first cousin and I caught so many fish we couldn't lift them to bring them home from the pond, relived memories of the first time he held his first grandson after having only girls to share his farm with; I walked him through the process of his giving me a lifelong yearning for learning, reading, and writing when as a child of five he tells me of a set of books he has ordered for me that can tell me about anything or any place( World Book Encyclopedia). A tear slips down his craggy face as he tries to smile, "I love you, baby."



I cannot quell the silent tears slipping so freely down my cheeks. "And I love you too, daddy."



I so hope when he reaches the stage where he cannot return from memories he will forever be in a warp with his horses and his girls. Anguish of the Soul.



                                                                                                                                          875 words