Dawn's Notes
Everybody Has A Story - January 2023
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW
I watched as a thin, wrinkled older man slowly licked his ice cream cone, turning the cone from side to side, cautiously eyeing it for any melting drips of ice cream that might silently escape. I remembered eating an ice cream cone like that when I was a child in Tennessee, when ice cream cones were a nickel, when nickels were scare, when ice cream was a rare treat to savor.
I was sitting in a booth at a restaurant in a town not far from home. (That night I was avoiding going home to an empty house after my husband had died.) My booth was fairly close to the older gentleman who was soon joined by a second older man, taller, heavier, and better dressed.
The second man addressed the ice-cream-cone man. “Well, how are you doing?” he asked. I remembered the face of Man #2—I had seen him at Wal-Mart one night about mid-night, pushing an empty cart around the store the same as I had been.
“I’m doing fine,” the man with the ice cream cone replied, as he carefully licked his vanilla treat as if trying to make it last.
“But are you getting enough to eat?” the second man pointedly asked.
“Yes, I went to the senior meal at noon today.”
Second man, “But I worry about you. Are you sure you are doing okay?”
Those are the snip-its from their conversation that I remember. Even though it has been several years, I have never forgotten that scene. Now, as then, I still admire Man #2 for his caring, gentle spirit and how he genuinely seemed concerned about his friend.
And I have since wondered, What had life been like for Man #2? Why was he pushing an empty cart around Wal-Mart at midnight? Could he not sleep or was he avoiding an empty house like I was? I knew my story. I wondered about his story, but I did not have the nerve to ask.
I still have nagging questions about Man #1 with the ice cream cone. Did he really have enough to eat? Was he sick? Why was he so thin? He had seemed proud, reluctant to accept help, declaring he was “fine.”
If you have ever watched people in a mall while waiting for someone, maybe you have studied the faces of those hurrying in and out of the stores. Perhaps you have wondered, Who are they? Where are they from? What are their stories?
Each of us has a story to tell. Some of our stories begin with fairy-tale weddings and end with distrust and betrayal while others are of love, wealth, and success. Some end with the untimely deaths of those we love, and our hopes and dreams are dashed.
The last chapter of your story may not be what you had hoped it would be. Against your wishes, your story may have been revised when someone you loved died. Even though you may have done everything you could to try to stop it, you could not change the devastating outcome.
But even though life is extremely difficult for you, the sun will continue to come up every day—it has no other choice, just like we have no other choice than to try to keep on living.
As we make choices to move forward after a loss, we can use our time to write a new chapter for our “book.” And as we “write,” we can sow seeds of kindness to others around us, just as Man #2 did. We can turn our own sadness into something good for someone else.
Doing small kindness can help your heart heal. “We cannot hold a torch to light another’s path without brightening our own” (Ben Sweetland).
Consider a quote by Gautama Siddarta, “A generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the things which renew humanity.” So pick up your pen and work on your story. You can make yours a good one! After all, everybody has a story!
Call about the next "Living Life after Loss" Group at:
Meadowlark Hospice
709 Liberty, Clay Center, Kansas
(785) 632-2225
Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW, Group Facilitator