Right after my friend Dave passed away in hospice on May 7th, I walked down the hallway bawling, barely able to walk, looking for a nurse. A lady I had never seen before walked slowly towards me at the nurses station - she was unassuming, with pretty short golden hair and nice glasses. She saw me crying, alone, and in need of a friend, and she said, "I'm a volunteer, would you like a hug?"
I grabbed her without thinking and hugged her, crying on her shoulder. She was at the right spot and perfect time when I needed someone to literally lean on.
I grabbed her without thinking and hugged her, crying on her shoulder. She was at the right spot and perfect time when I needed someone to literally lean on.
When I'm nervous or scared, I ask questions or try and say something funny. I had heard throughout the week, while I stayed with Dave in hospice, that after a loved one passes away, that several family members become volunteers to help out because they and their family were taken care of so well there; they like to give back.
So, when I was finally able to lean away from hugging her and could finally stop from hyperventilating, I decided to transition the focus of my sobbing to her to help my nerves. I asked her gently, "So, I heard volunteers help out after they have lost a loved one. Who passed?"
So, when I was finally able to lean away from hugging her and could finally stop from hyperventilating, I decided to transition the focus of my sobbing to her to help my nerves. I asked her gently, "So, I heard volunteers help out after they have lost a loved one. Who passed?"
She said, "Well I had a couple of loved ones pass, but not here."
I looked at her confused, wiping tears from my cheeks. "What do you mean?"
She paused and confided, almost in a whisper, "I was the one who passed away."
I was like, uh, but you're right here.
She explained cautiously, "I don't normally share with this with many people, but I strongly feel like I was meant to be here today for you. I had brain surgery a few years ago and I died during the surgery."
Being the person I am, I asked, "OMG, did you see the light?!"
She shared, "Well, sorta. What I saw was my family. And friends. And I felt so much peace when I died. That's why I volunteer here at hospice, to try and assure family members that their loved ones are at peace when they pass and everything will be okay and you will see them again."
I was STUNNED. I told her (tears started to flow again) that yep, I, too, now felt she was meant to be there, to help me out in a time of need.
I could not believe the story she told me. I had heard something similar from someone else before who also had died and came back, who experienced the peacefulness when dying. But I had not even thought about it at all because Dave had literally just passed away and my mind was reeling, my heart was breaking, and I was a complete mess.
Marylyn normally doesn't volunteer on Mondays. She goes on Fridays. This day was a Monday. There were so many signs that she was meant to be there on that day because I needed a friend in a desperate time. What she said to me was at the perfect time; and a great reminder about life, death, and peace.
She stayed with me for the next hour while I called friends about Dave. I wouldn't go back into his room, so she stood by my side in the large, warm, welcoming, hallway, held my hand, wiped away tears, even handed me a poem she had written - she had just a single one left over, ironically.
I can't begin to express how important it was for me to see her that day and hear that story right after Dave passed. And I think it's important to share this with others, too.
