Love You Back

Sometimes I think it is so cliche to say, "He changed my life." How can we point to one person and so easily say that he or she is the reason for a transformation in our lives? I wonder this often, as I have found myself so steadily saying things like "Joseph's House has changed my life" or "That man really taught me something that has transformed my perspective." I want to tell the story of a man who I really believe has changed me...perhaps my path in life has not been altered because of him, but my approach to relationships has definitely been impacted.

The first time I met him was in a nursing home. I was instantly struck by how tall and skinny he was. He held himself with great pride, but it took me a while to get past the fact that he could stand up and walk with so little fat and muscle on his body. One of the first things he told me that day was, "I'm scared. I'm anxious." When I asked him why, he was quick to say that he had been given a death sentence, that he didn't know when he would die, but he knew that it would be soon. He was so honest with me in our first meeting. It was as though he saw something in me that told him he could trust me. And when he moved into Joseph's House, I instantly became his confidante, his secret-keeper, the one to whom he told so much.

I took such pride in being his confidante. I felt special. I felt strong. I felt worthy. For a 70 year old man to look at a 23 year old and say, "I trust you"....let's just say, that's never really happened to me before. Most folks who are older than me, whether it be clients whom I have worked with or colleagues I've met along the way, have a tendency to love me, yet only share so much with me because of my youth...because I may not understand where they are coming from because I have grown up in a very different world. Not my friend, though. He treated me like an equal, took interest in my life, and was never hesitant to tell me about his. I loved spending time with him because we could talk for hours about a diverse range of things - life, love, friendship, joy, sadness, and even his impending death. I loved our conversations, so much so that my "husband" at Joseph's House even got a little jealous.

This was all until I really started to see how much my friend had sunk into depression. Once I realized that he was suffering mentally and emotionally, aside from just physically, I got scared. I found myself backing away, spending less time in his room, making excuses as to why I couldn't sit and hang out. I didn't know how to deal with his depression, as each time I tried to show him the possibly joy in a situation, it was never good enough. I did what I have always done in my life when someone I love is suffering like this...I ran away. And he knew I was doing it.

In the last two weeks of his life, something changed. I started to really reflect on how easy it was for me to run away but how challenging it was to admit that I had done so. One day I had gone into his room to bring him dinner. I sat down besides his bed and my entire body language kind of screamed "Get me out of here!" My legs were bouncing up and down, I was humming and staring at the TV, afraid to engage in conversation because I did not want to confront depression. I didn't want to hear my friend talk about his internal pain or his anger because I didn't want my friend to hurt anymore...and I knew there was nothing tangible that I could do to help him, to heal his pain, to end his suffering. Suddenly, by the grace of God, I looked at him and asked the strangest question: "Do you feel like I am rushing you each time I enter this room? Because I feel like I am rushing you...and in no way is that fair to you." What happened next is why I say that this man has changed me.

He answered with a simple yes...and then told me not to leave, but to sit. That he was now determined to teach me to slow down, to stop rushing, to just sit and engage in conversation. And so we talked and for the first time in my life, I didn't run away when things got uncomfortable. Even when our conversation reached a point in which I recognized that no matter what I said, no matter what differing perspective I offered, it was his life and he would approach it in the way he chose to approach it. Our conversation grew so deep that day. We discussed how difficult life is when we can no longer find joy or happiness; how hard it is when people who love you hurt you; how much it hurts when you let yourself down. Through our conversation, I found peace with him; and God reminded me that love is enough. I don't have to have some tangible way of healing someone. Love is enough. I don't have to be able to see that I have taken away someone's suffering. Love is enough. Love is enough and it will always be enough and running away is no solution. Love is the answer...

The next two weeks are difficult to explain, but I was full of love. I spent as much time as I could with my friend so that he would know that someone was there, that someone loved him despite his flaws, despite his weaknesses, despite his past actions. Someone loved him unconditionally. I watched as my dear friend died...but died with an awareness of what was happening to him. He never slipped into a coma. He spoke in metaphors of going on a journey. One morning, for three hours, he explained to me that we were in a car, that he didn't know where we were going, but that he knew we had to get there. He told me that we would see friends along the way and that we would have to say goodbye. Each day I sat with my phone beside me whenever I was not at work, waiting for the phone call that my friend had gone home to God. But each day when I went home, something in me told me it wasn't time yet. When the day came that it was time for me to leave Joseph's House for the weekend, I knew that it was the last time I would see my friend again. I help his hand and told him it was time for me to say goodbye. His confusion was so clear and he mumbled something under his breath about what it means to say goodbye. I kissed him on his forehead and said, "I love you, friend." Through the confusion, through the suffering, he looked me in the eye and said, "Love you back, Britt."

Words cannot describe the power that love has, especially love between two people. I felt it in that moment. God was there with us, and I believe God healed us both that day. My friend died very peacefully on February 19th before dawn. His journey is complete, and I know that he was able to say goodbye to his friends along the way. I am forever grateful.