I was about to update my blog with a new post until I saw this saved draft that I started on December 2013.

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Wow...it's been over a year since I last posted in this blog.  I seem to have several drafts of unfinished thoughts...  Anyways, I suppose I'm writing now because I feel like I have an important story to tell about a very special woman that I'm immensely fond of.  But the story goes way back...about 6 years ago.

6 years ago, for physiology class, there was a requirement to volunteer 8? or some odd number of hours.  I don't remember if it had to be at a health related place (probably did have to be), but I chose one of the volunteer places listed as an option.  I chose a convalescent home for some reason...and because my sister was taking the same class as me - with the same requirements - we both volunteered together at that place.

Upon entering the building for the first time, we were greeted by the most repugnant smell memorable - different than smelling a dumpster, but just as memorable.  We were given a list of names of the people and rooms to visit...I'm not so sure I followed that well.  A lot of elderlies just wanted to be left alone, or were too mentally unfocused to hold a conversation.  Many of them have some sort of dementia and/or chronic disease that usually comes with getting older/old age.

Anyways...I remember meeting a man in a wheelchair who told me that when he was younger, he had a stamp collection (postage stamps, just to clarify).  I also talked to a few older women...but one in particular I connected with like no other.  Probably because she was the most coherent and seemed to really enjoy the company of talking to someone.  Over the next month, every weekend I went to her room to find and talk with her for the entire 2 hour duration.  Every week I would remind her of my name because she couldn't seem to remember.  And every week I learned a little more about her life than the week before.  I learned that she had only one child, a son that played the trumpet professionally for a New Jersey symphony.  She never mentioned anything about a husband or anything like that.  In her room on a small bulletin board I saw a picture of her with her son in a house I presume was his or hers, and 2 pictures of her blonde-haired niece who looked about 6 in the photos.  I also remember seeing a photo of 3 half black-half white children...who I can only guess are her nieces children from what I believe she said...

Even though the place stunk, was depressing as hell, and felt like it was bringing down my soul, in her I found hope.  I remember during one particular conversation, after finding out about my age, she told me, "You're so young.  You have your whole life in front of you.  That's what I also told my son when he was your age."  My young, 16-year-old self felt so withered by the constant stress of the unknown with regards to what my life was amounting to.  I had no aspirations, was lost, and could only focus on the lack of talent and skill I seemed to have.  I felt so defeated by my surroundings, by the insurmountable pressure to be someone and do something meaningful with my life.

I left each conversation feeling no happier than when I came in - but I do believe I felt a little more alive.  Perhaps it was because here I was, a young "able" body that was able to do things that most of the elderly in the convalescent home could not.  I felt compelled to make a difference in this life.

Regardless of whatever it was I felt back then, I knew she had a part of my soul with her - even though she didn't really know who I was.  Since those meetings 6 years ago, I would think about her from time to time.

It wasn't until after my dad passed away that ma said that we should do something nice for others for Christmas.  Spread some good cheer.  So...we decided to go to that convalescent home that me and my sister volunteered at so many years back.  In my mind, I was filled with memories of that woman whose name I could never forget.  I was both elated with hope that I could possibly see her again, but I was also fearing the worst...it has, after all, been 5 years since I had last seen her.

As soon as I stepped through the double doors of the building, I rushed through the maze-like corridors, peeping at each door to see the name plates of the residents in each room.  I scoured the hallways and recreational rooms to see if she was in there.  Just as me and my sister turned the corner, it was like seeing something out of the movies.  The sole woman I was feverishly looking for was sitting in her wheelchair in the hallway.  We were facing each other, and after I stopped in my track with my jaw dropped and eyes wide open, I saw her eyes (including her lazy eye) and mouth become wide.  I approached her and said with a huge smile "Hello". She replied, "I know you!!!" ......................only, she said that to my sister......

From the oversized shirt she was wearing, I somehow noticed she had lost a breast.  From our hour long or so conversation, she mentioned that she had breast cancer...and that she was going to see the doctor in a week or two for a mammogram.  She was visibly upset about having to go see a doctor, and I remember feeling so much pain and sorrow for her and all she had been through.  I admired her for her strength and perseverance.  Before saying goodbye, I remember promising to see her again in a couple weeks.  That was a broken promise I regretted.

Ultimately, I was happy that she recognized me.  After spending time with her that Christmas eve, I felt rejuvenated again.  Even though she never remembered my name, she did remember what me (well, in my sister, really) looked like.  I couldn't have asked for a happier Christmas day, after all the turmoil we went through the previous year.

And that broken promise I made to her the Christmas of 2012?

Well,  that's one thing regret I don't have to live with for the rest of my life.  I went to the convalescent home with my mom again last Christmas in 2013.  I remember my one mission was to find that special woman.  Even though I held high hopes, I still braced myself for the worst.  I didn't know if she was still alive.

Needless to say, after about 10 seemingly long and agonizing minutes of walking through the halls of the building, I found her at the very last room at the end of the corridor.  She was lying in the bed watching TV.  I can only imagine my own facial expression, but I know my insides were screaming from utmost surprise and jubilance.  I felt air escape from my chest through my mouth as if I had been holding my breath for the longest time.  There was a monumental sense of relief.   She was alive!  I walked in and introduced myself as if I were talking to a stranger, even though to me she was - in a weird way - my mentor.  Her eyes weren't as sharp as they used to be since she thought I was her niece, but I FINALLY got a chance to tell her what I wanted to say.  I told her about the first time I met her all those years ago even though she couldn't remember.

Anyways, during our conversation she offered me muffins a couple times even though I declined them.  Her short term memory is of no doubt in part due to old age, but I found it quite endearing.  She is such a kind soul despite everything she has been through.  I'm sure it helps that her brother visits every weekend...and I'm so glad that she has a true guardian watching over her.

She'll never know how big of an impact she made on me and how appreciative I am to her for spending time talking to that 16-year old for some school assignment.  Though she won't remember me, I'll forever remember her.