Sunday, July 28, 2013
Today I finally made it back to the Soldiers Home. I’d been sidetracked by a sinus infection, a long Midwestern vacation and then a bonus ear infection, and it’d been far, far too long. So long, in fact, on the way there I worried what I might find—or, more specifically, whom I might not find.
I came out at dinnertime and snuck in a back door, making a beeline for Ray McDade’s room. He was there, headphones on, listening to the pope.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ray said. I hugged him hard. He’d gotten my postcard from Michigan, but the real news was his: He’d been in the hospital for three days while I was gone.
“I have really good insurance,” Ray said. “They gave me anything I wanted to eat!”
Ray asked a lot of questions about my trip: about my parents, about my son’s golf game, about the weather, about our next plans to get together, about good kids and how they get that way. (Ray said he thinks he learned respectful behavior “through osmosis,” because that’s what his parents modeled.)
As we talked, I had a moment of clear, pure gratitude: I am so thankful for Ray.
We caught up and talked quite a while. I gave him the apple butter I’d found for him at an Amish store in Michigan. He gave me a calendar of Hawaii pictures.
He asked what else was new, so I told him. I’ve been sick so often, I’m guessing, because I’m overstressed—about money, about my son’s impending departure for college (which also involves more money), about my impending move from our family home (more money!). (I might be detecting a pattern here. Ray, too.)
“I hate divorce like a poisonous snake,” Ray said.
I love Ray.
He asked whether I planned to see Bill Crowell. I said he was my next stop.
“I stopped to see him yesterday, and I’m not sure he even knew who I was,” Ray said.
I sighed. Ray and I hugged. “God bless you, dear,” he said.
On my way to Bill’s room, I happened to look into the assisted-dining area. After about 10 steps, it hit me that I might have seen Bill sitting there. He didn’t require help eating the last time I saw him, but I turned around, anyway.
It was Bill.
He recognized me enough to ask for a kiss, and then he told me he’d like the Lord to take him soon. “It’s nothing but old veterans here,” he said.
I had a hard time hearing/understanding most of the rest of what he said, and Bill seemed to have a hard time finding words.
But not all of the time. “In my eyes, you’ll always be a princess,” I heard Bill say very clearly.
I put my arm around him and kissed the top of his head. I told him I’d see him soon at Bingo. I wish I had said, “God bless you, Bill.”
Today I finally made it back to the Soldiers Home. I’d been sidetracked by a sinus infection, a long Midwestern vacation and then a bonus ear infection, and it’d been far, far too long. So long, in fact, on the way there I worried what I might find—or, more specifically, whom I might not find.
I came out at dinnertime and snuck in a back door, making a beeline for Ray McDade’s room. He was there, headphones on, listening to the pope.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ray said. I hugged him hard. He’d gotten my postcard from Michigan, but the real news was his: He’d been in the hospital for three days while I was gone.
“I have really good insurance,” Ray said. “They gave me anything I wanted to eat!”
Ray asked a lot of questions about my trip: about my parents, about my son’s golf game, about the weather, about our next plans to get together, about good kids and how they get that way. (Ray said he thinks he learned respectful behavior “through osmosis,” because that’s what his parents modeled.)
As we talked, I had a moment of clear, pure gratitude: I am so thankful for Ray.
We caught up and talked quite a while. I gave him the apple butter I’d found for him at an Amish store in Michigan. He gave me a calendar of Hawaii pictures.
He asked what else was new, so I told him. I’ve been sick so often, I’m guessing, because I’m overstressed—about money, about my son’s impending departure for college (which also involves more money), about my impending move from our family home (more money!). (I might be detecting a pattern here. Ray, too.)
“I hate divorce like a poisonous snake,” Ray said.
I love Ray.
He asked whether I planned to see Bill Crowell. I said he was my next stop.
“I stopped to see him yesterday, and I’m not sure he even knew who I was,” Ray said.
I sighed. Ray and I hugged. “God bless you, dear,” he said.
On my way to Bill’s room, I happened to look into the assisted-dining area. After about 10 steps, it hit me that I might have seen Bill sitting there. He didn’t require help eating the last time I saw him, but I turned around, anyway.
It was Bill.
He recognized me enough to ask for a kiss, and then he told me he’d like the Lord to take him soon. “It’s nothing but old veterans here,” he said.
I had a hard time hearing/understanding most of the rest of what he said, and Bill seemed to have a hard time finding words.
But not all of the time. “In my eyes, you’ll always be a princess,” I heard Bill say very clearly.
I put my arm around him and kissed the top of his head. I told him I’d see him soon at Bingo. I wish I had said, “God bless you, Bill.”