I've always known about the hospice Celebration of Life services that Peppi's House holds each quarter. I've always worked for a TMC executive that would receive the invitations to attend and I guess I pretty much paid very little attention to these so called celebrations. That is until I got one at home. I remember seeing the envelope in my mailbox and subconsciously knew what it was. But it caught me at a vulnerable moment so I set it aside and didn't open it for a day or two, finally opening it and actually throwing it away. I thought about it and knew it was the last thing I could handle. Didn't those people know I've been avoiding putting myself in situations where I may openly cry and grieve for my husband?
Well as it would figure, my kids all received the same invitation and Alison & Lesley encouraged me to attend with them. I agreed but felt kind of nervous about the whole thing because seriously, avoidance seems to work pretty well for me. They reminded me the morning of the celebration and I asked Marshall to attend too. He said he had to work but would come by when he got off.
I was nervous going in and the girls were right by my side feeling the same. We got to the conference center, signed in and were greeted by one of the volunteers I've known for many years. She asked if we were there for someone, maybe my father. I told her no, my husband passed recently in Hospice and we were there for him. I saw a tear in her eye and she got up and hugged me. And so it flowed. The tears rolled down my cheeks and I wasn't even in the door! We put our framed picture of Al playing golf on the table with the other pictures of loved ones who'd recently passed and then sat down. The celebration was actually beautiful and opened with an emotional, ethnic, haunting type of song performed by a trio all dressed in white with the main "chanter" reaching all of us with his rhythmic song and all-feeling/seeing spirit although he was blind.
The celebration finished off with the reading of each person's name who had passed in Hospice over the quarter. Family members of the deceased (ugh, still hate saying that!) would come forward when their loved one's name was read and they would light a candle from the single candle of hope, love and remembrance that was at the front of the room and carry their candle back to their seat until each person in the room was holding a lit candle. As the names were called out Alison, Lesley & I grew nervous as they neared his name. And then there it was. Alfonso Navarro. It hit us like a ton of bricks. He's gone. His name is included in the list of those who are gone. Really? Is this what he has become? A name in a list? A name where no more moments in life will be added? That's it. No more funny stories, no more silly songs, no more wrapping his arms around us, no more telling me how much he loves me and how my love saved him, no more. The three of us rose nervously from our seats and walked single file to the front and lit our candles. "I love you Al" came from my mouth and the girls murmured something similar. At the end of the reading of names, the chaplain asked if anyone else would like to come up and light a candle. The girls each got up and lit a candle for Al for Marshall and Peter. Marshall arrived as the service was ending and we gave him his candle and program. Peter got his when I got home.
I am so sad for the lives of those whose names were called and no one came forward to honor them and light a candle of hope, love and remembrance. But those people meant something to someone. We all mean something to someone. So cling to that. Even in our darkest hour, we are all special to someone. Maybe years ago, maybe in a way we never knew but we existed and we impacted someone's life....somewhere....sometime.
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