I am a hospice harpist…began playing after two graduates from the Chalice of Repose Project came to Zen Hospice in San Francisco to demo their work of playing the harp and singing at the bedside of the dying.
I used to come a play the harp for Maureen on Thursday evenings. I did so for about a year. During our last few months together we became closer than we had been prior to that time. About two weeks before she died, as we shared our traditional hug good-bye, she whispered to me “Greg, if there is some way I can communicate back to you after I die, I will.”
My last Thursday visit, it was clear to me that she was going to die very soon and that I would not see her again. As I departed about 7pm, I gave her what I thought would be our last hug and good-bye. She was not communicating.
Sure enough, the next day I received a call from the volunteer coordinator about 1pm stating that Maureen had died about 1am, about four hours after I left.
My experience with Maureen gave me greater appreciation for my eyesight. I think about that nearly every day…even now, 2 years after her departure. When I received the news, I decided to take a walk to contemplate Maureen and the time we spent together. I was working out of my office at home and decided to walk amongst the tall redwood trees and think about her.
About half-way through my walk I stopped in front of an old barn that had an inviting chair sitting in front of it facing the large vineyard. I also noticed that there were a few interesting clouds in the sky. I sat down, closed my eyes and sat…45 minutes seemed to fly by as I meditated. As I returned my mind to the outside world, I got up off the chair and headed back to return home.
I walked about 50 yards and for some reason stopped and looked up at the sky. Above me was one large cloud in the shape of a surf board. It was long enough that it took up about 45 degrees in front and behind me. The sky around me was blue otherwise.
The texture of the cloud was like popcorn – half white, half blue. As I looked up I saw in blue:
LOVE U
written in the clouds.
The message was there for about 60 seconds before cloud movement eventually erased it.
Maureen had kept her promise.
- Greg Schneider
President
Hospice Volunteer Association
www.hospicevolunteerassociation.org
When Mamie Wilson became my hospice patient,
she had several unusual qualities that made me wonder. At sixty-five with
Alzheimer’s disease, she was the youngest patient assigned to me after years of
hospice volunteering. She had the same name as my grandmother, and I had her
grandmother's name. When we made these discoveries during our first meeting, we
viewed them as signs that we were destined to have a great patient-volunteer
relationship. In time, I learned that the most unusual thing about Mamie was
what she said.
“Is your mother alive?” Mamie asked me one
day.
“No, she died a few years ago in her
eighties,” I responded.
“You know, you can still be with her and talk
to her if you want to.”
“Oh, I know we can still communicate.”
“No, I mean for real. You can be with her in
person. Just get her clothes together and her shoes. Don’t forget her coat.
They say it’s cold outside. Take them to the cemetery where she’s buried. Just
set them on top of her grave and wait. She’ll rise out of her grave and put
them on. Then you can take her home with you. In every way, she’ll be the same
person you knew. Other people won’t be able to see her, but you will.”
“Hmm. I’ve never heard that before.”
“Most people haven’t. I know about it because
I did it with my two grown sons. They were both murdered on the same day in a
drive-by shooting. I didn’t know how I would get through the pain. Finally, I
took their clothes to the cemetery and did what I just told you. Both of them
came home with me. It was the best day of my life. I got my sons back.”
Satisfied, she smiled.
Some people will dismiss this story as crazed
comments of a demented woman. But, if you really listen, you’ll hear the
magnificent empowerment in her words.
© Frances Shani Parker
Frances Shani Parker is a writer, eldercare consultant, and former school principal. A hospice volunteer in Detroit nursing homes for many years, she is author of the groundbreaking book Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes