29 Sep An Unimaginable Role

An Unimaginable Role, by Patty Dunn

My soul tells me, we were

all broken from the same nameless

heart, and every living thing

wakes with a piece of that original

heart aching its way into blossom.

This is why we know each other

below our strangeness, why when

we fall, we lift each other, why

when sudden with joy, we dance

together. Life is the many pieces

of that great heart loving itself

back together.

~ Mark Nepo

This poem spoke to me this morning when I was trying to decide what to read at a client’s intimate ash-spreading ceremony. It seemed apropos for Dorothy (not her real name), yet universal. Dorothy wanted her ashes spread on a specific spot on her property. Her dearest friend from FLA, who was also her only “chosen” family, was unable to participate, so Judy, Fran, and I stood in for her. Judy and Fran were her devoted Brattleboro Area Hospice client-volunteers. I was their hospice volunteer coordinator. Another volunteer, Nancy, was not there but gave Dorothy the gift of adopting her beloved cat before she died. More than anything, this gave Dorothy (and all of us) great peace of mind and heart at a time when that was in short supply for her.

Despite the sadness we all harbored that she did not die in her own bed at home with her beloved cat beside her– but rather confused and away from all that she loved– we bathed in the beauty of the day and the gratification of honoring her final wish. As we followed her roughly calculated measurements to determine the right spot, we noticed a small, immature volunteer blooming hosta in the middle of the pathway. That became the focal point of our circle. We Facetimed Linda in Florida so she could participate remotely. Judy, Fran and I held hands in a semi-circle so Linda could complete the circle. We propped my phone on a nearby wishing well (how fitting) which allowed us to see one another. We took a moment of silence to create a sacred circle, read the poem, each said what seemed important to say, and took turns sprinkling Dorothy’s light, dust-like remains along a path that disappeared into the woods. With deep and heartfelt expressions of gratitude, sorrow and joy, we closed the circle and bade Linda goodbye.

We caravanned to nearby Fire Arts Bakery to feast on homemade pastries and cappuccino’s (a gift from Linda!), lit some candles we brought to keep Dorothy’s light near, and adorned the table with the tail end of the season’s pansies. When it was time to leave, we hugged like close friends who’d shared part of a lifetime together.

As I drove away, I couldn’t help thinking about the unique and unimaginable roles hospice volunteers are often asked to fulfill when there’s no one else—and it’s a role they effortlessly slip into, with seeming awareness of our human kinship and that “we are all broken from the same nameless heart”.