| Friendship
from the Nursing Home |
 |
by Mike Lee / English
Editor: Wilmot Yeh
April 13, 2003
Chinese
Version
Chinese Version
As I
was packing for my big move away from California after losing
my job, I found an old gift that stirred up some warm memories.
It was a white mug with a simple Christmas tree painted on it.
An old gentleman gave it to me nearly a decade ago, around the
holidays.
The gentleman's name was Dominick Macri. When
I first met him, I had just begun participating in the Tzu Chi
weekend visits to nursing homes, and that Saturday afternoon
was only my second time. As the visit came to a close and I
headed for the exit with the other volunteers, a frail old man
in a wheelchair stopped me.
He asked me where I was from, and I told him
Taiwan. Then he asked me if I wanted to learn some Italian.
I gladly accepted this elderly friend's kind offer, but his
speech was slurred from a previous stroke. After he uttered
some unintelligible sounds, I asked him what they meant. He
told me, "Once you come into this place, it is the end
of all your happiness."
It was shocking and heartbreaking to hear
him say that, although I could empathize with those sentiments
after my short time volunteering. The nursing home was a lonely
and unpleasant place, worsened by the constant shortage of staff
and funds. I became determined to make this old man happier,
and from that resolve, I began my year-long friendship with
Dominick.
I remember trying very hard to bring joy back
to Dominick's life, but after a while, I realized that it was
beyond my ability. He constantly lamented the loss of control
in his right side. Often he would lift his lifeless right arm
with his left arm, let it drop, and wail out in sorrow. There
was one summer afternoon, I remember fondly, when he generously
showed me his last personal treasures: prayer beads, a photo
album, a book of his poetry, and various other things. I paid
special attention to his photo album, for I thought Dominick's
past might offer clues to why he was so sad. I found images
of a man, strong and vibrant, with so many sunny memories of
picnics and fishing trips. That man shared very little resemblance
to the weak, despondent senior sitting next to me. It then dawned
upon me: to lose something taken for granted is one of the worst
punishments fate can impose.
Another reason for Dominick's constant sorrow
was his desire to be home with his family. His daughters were
unable to take care of him anymore, so the nursing home became
the only option, especially considering his occasionally violent
temper. All I could do was offer an hour of friendship each
week to relieve his desperate solitude, but it was during that
precious hour that our friendship bloomed.
But gradually I gave up. I had problems in
my own life, and spending that hour at the nursing home in the
midst of suffering and deterioration became more and more discouraging.
I started skipping visits. At the same time, Dominick's own
sanity dwindled. On that autumn late afternoon, when I saw him
for the last time, Dominick was in his final stages of decline.
In a wheelchair by a window, he sat by himself. As I knelt down
to his eye level and said hello, he gazed at me blankly. He
no longer recognized me. I returned two weeks later to find
his bed empty. Regret and guilt filled my heart when the nursing
home staff told me that he had passed on, but I knew that his
suffering had finally come to an end.
Dominick left this world almost a decade ago.
For me, this friendship was a lesson in life, a strong reminder
of the important things: to accept disappointments, to take
care of my health, and to control my temper. However, in the
ten years since his passing, the lessons went wasted. I continued
working long and unhealthy hours. I constantly neglected my
own well-being. Worst of all, I kept hurting the people dearest
to me with my bad temper. Despite his precious friendship guiding
me toward the right way of life, the demands of my mundane existence
drove me to the opposite.
I'm glad the mug miraculously reappeared.
Perhaps its reappearance is a sign that my friend is still watching
over me from somewhere, and that he is trying to keep me from
making the same mistakes again.
