FATES HAND

In my journey through various care settings, from hospitals to care homes, I've borne witness to the spectrum of human experiences – from the miracle of new life to the solemnity of its end, and everything in between. Each encounter has left an indelible mark on my soul, for which I am profoundly grateful.

Amidst these profound moments, one particular memory stands out, beckoning to be shared. It's a moment that resonates deeply within me, a testament to the profound connections forged in the crucible of caregiving.

Below is a poem I've penned, an insight into the heart of one of these transformative experiences...

FATES HAND

Our first and last meeting
you as my patient
I, as your carer
you lying moribund
on your hospital bed.

Initial unknowing;
I settled by your side
placing your hand in mine,
entrenched in the stillness of the moment,
assertiveness sharpened
by impermanence.

Slippers lay footless;
many a path
their then dying owner once danced,
ring-a-ring-a-roses
on life’s merry-go-round.

Earrings lay bare
that once adorned attentive ears,
glasses perched on her recent book
reflecting the final scene.

A life gripping
clenched on to my skin
a distant yet present soul,
part there
part other-worldly,
an unfamiliar truth set in,
an axe to tree
jolting us out of prior existence.

While Cheyne-stokes
echoed a silent signal,
you turned your head to mine
eyes a glaze, a smile to raise
then settled back to your fate.

At your very end
and at my very beginning
we exchanged comfort for wisdom;
I became a woman that day.
We met as strangers
we parted perpetual friends.