Sunday, April 18, 2010

End of the road

For more than over a year, I have worked full time as a volunteer in our local retirement home. I had applied for the job, but my bachelor's degree was more than they could afford.
I really wanted to do the job and I suggested volunteering. Which they gladly accepted. So I started my first week as a volunteer. My job was to feed the residents, entertain them, talk with them, take them for a walk, bring them to the cafeteria, give them a shoulder to cry on. Many of the residents were real happy to have me. They were lonely, without relatives visiting them. They had family all right, but many young couples have kids and full time jobs, and very little time. So they don't visit as much as they could, should or would.

I had one department to take care off. Pretty soon, I knew all residents by name and I knew who had visitors and who didn't. One elderly man, living in the first room next to the staircase, was a joy to visit. The smile on his face whenever I entered the room, was like winning the golden ticket. One day, I had brought my camera and I made portraits of all the residents. I had them enlarged and each one of them, received their framed picture. So when I gave Mr A his picture, he was quite surprised how I got a picture of.. his father! He thought the man in the picture was his father! That's when it occurred to me, that this man, who had been in a wheelchair for decades, had not seen his own face for that same amount of time. The mirror above his wash table was too high. He never complained and nobody asked.

Soon after I had taken his picture, Mr A passed away. His relatives, whom I had never met (since they never visited him), asked me about the picture. They wanted to use it on the obituary. It startled me how much his son looked after him... I wonder if he would ever see a picture of himself, thinking it were his father..

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