The Fellowship Hall has been returned to its normal state - classrooms that recently were bedrooms are once again furnished with the motley donated castaways from other's living rooms; bathrooms cleaned of toiletries and printed schedules, the signage once again reading "Men" and "Women" instead of "Women Only, 11/8-11/22"; and the main room once again set up with rows and rows of folding chairs for the daily AA meetings rather than the cozy sitting areas that The Sisters group created with the chairs and sofas that occupied the classrooms. It's quiet and ready for whatever is next but the spirit of the women is still there for me when I walk through, checking one last time for stray items left behind. Of the twelve women whose circumstances could be ours if events in our lives had mirrored theirs, a few stand out as I check the rooms - Fran with her grin and ready teasing, Jacqueline with her megawatt smile and optimistic attitude, Nancy with her busyness and lovely voice who joined our choir while with us, serene Annie who reminds me of the duck analogy - calm above the water but probably paddling furiously beneath, and Helen, grumpy and unwelcoming to anyone who enters "her" room. "OUT!" she yells at anyone who tries to come ink, effectively imprisoning her two roommates who would have to leave in order to visit with anyone else. I admitted the entire time she was with us that if I were 72, toothless and homeless, I would be grumpy, too, but it was still hard to be pleasant to her. We always were, but it wasn't easy.
The last week went smoothly. I or Nancy or Jill arrive at 5:30 AM to make coffee in the CLC and wake everyone up to find Helen up and dressed, some already in the bathrooms, others still in bed with covers over their heads and hostesses still sleeping - sort of! Drivers arrive on time, some early for coffee; hostesses (who we have been calling chaperones but we like this title better) straggle into the kitchen for coffee with stories of the night before; this day's breakfast crew is scrambling eggs, frying bacon, setting out plates and bowls, ready with smiles for us all. The ladies arrive one at a time and in bunches ready for breakfast and the start of another boring or frustrating day;. At 7:00, everyone is piling into cars to head downtown - everyone that is except Annie and Faith, always last, perhaps reluctant to leave or perhaps exerting some tiny bit of control over a lifestyle that allows them very little at all.
Evenings are a reverse picture of the mornings with the dinner crew arriving at 5:30 with fragrant dishes in hand ready to put in the warming oven while they set up their other contributions of rolls and salads and desserts. The ladies arrive hungry and tired, anxious to see what's for dinner, most with smiles and reports of a good day although we rarely find out what a good day is really like. Hostesses begin to arrive to join us all for dinner and get to know their "charges" for the night. Grace is shared by all and chatter and laughter is heard from each table as dinner is consumed. I go off to find Helen who hasn't shown up for dinner, again. The second helping "regulars" return for more, stunning me each time with the amount of food they can consume and being the ones who "taught" us early on to serve them all rather than have them serve themselves so we can make sure there is enough for all. As they finish dinner, some linger and others return to the Fellowship Hall one by one, some to gather their belongings to shower, others to watch a movie or return to their rooms for some privacy and fellowship with their roommates. By 9:00, most are in bed ready for this sequence to begin again the next morning.
We get to know the women by sitting with them at meals or by the private conversations we can sometimes catch when they are sitting by themselves. Paulette gets to know their background best as she encourages each one to sit with her and let her create a resume for each or update, correct, professionalize the ones they have. She talks about the pleasure she sees in their eyes when they see her finished result, their name at the top in capital letters, their work history presented in a format that legitimizes their worth. The yoga classes provide us with a group activity that settles their minds and makes them aware of their bodies and how they must take better care of themselves for the future we hope they will have.
The last evening, many of the volunteers join us for a pot luck supper and their last chance to socialize with our guests. We sit at round tables, mixing now in a way that didn't seem possible two weeks ago. Hugs and genuine smiles of friendship are visible. We've all discovered that we are connected, that we are here to help each other. We helped them live comfortably and safely for two weeks but they helped us understand for a lifetime that they aren't different from us - they have different skills to cope with the lives they are living but some have dreams and aspirations for the good life just like we do. Others, I think, don't believe that will ever be in their grasp and continue in a state of humble desperation that we hope we or our loved ones will never experience.
As the last morning repeats the routine of the previous 13, a bit of sadness pervades our normally cheerful atmosphere as we all realize this is the last time we will be together and as hard as it has been on us, the volunteers, we are reluctant to see it come to an end. We have come to love them and silently wonder what will happen next to them, for them, as we realize we have to turn them over to the next caregivers. Our prayers go with them as they leave the dining room to gather their new suitcases and plastic bags filled with all they own out in the parking lot. We help them pack them into the extra cars that have arrived, we hug them one last time (even Helen let me hug her! "Oh, you're the hugger" she says disdainfully as she reaches for me. "Okay, you can hug me.") and stand and wave good by until we can't see them anymore.
And, yes, in case you were wondering, we did get Faith to smile, several times in fact.
No comments:
Post a Comment