Tuesday, January 03, 2012

Hope!

Part of what I do at the halfway house is the menu planning and grocery shopping. At any given time, I have two residents who are my "pantry guys" who help me keep track of what we need to get, etc. Last year, one of them handed me a scribbled list on a crumpled scrap of paper that said: green peppers, milk, spaghetti sauce, HOPE!


He was a life-long alcoholic in his mid-fifties with thick silvery gray hair and a well-trimmed mustache. He had been a model resident--always doing his share and then some, but that week he was in a little bit of a rough spot, an emotional slump. He was as cranky as I'd ever seen him--surly and even a little snappish when really pushed by the younger guys in the house, which wasn't like him at all.

Later, when he had worked his way back into a better place, we joked about which grocery store aisle exactly you'd have to look in to find hope.

He left the house shortly thereafter and moved into our supportive living program--which provides some structure, but much more independence than the halfway house (I call it a three-quarters-of-the-way house) and did very well there.

He was working in a job he loved, had gotten his driving privileges back, was rebuilding damaged relationships with family and friends. Through it all he maintained his sense of humor, generosity and kindness to others. And though he could be something of a gossip (he knew the doings of all his friends and acquaintances with a precision unmatched by anyone else I've ever met), his interest in other people's lives was genuine and tempered with compassion.


Early Friday morning, we lost him to a cancer that first presented itself as a particularly persistent hoarse throat--for weeks, he thought it was just the lingering effects of a late spring cold.


May it be some comfort to his family that he had two healthy years in which he had gained some measure of peace--and yes, hope--within himself.

10 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry for your loss. This post really got me in the gut for so many reasons. I'm glad you helped him find hope. Which aisle was it in? ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. So sorry for your loss. I have so much admiration for the work you do- living the trials, fears, hopes of your residents and friends along with them. I imagine it must feel like losing a family member, and there is nothing harder. Your residents are lucky to have someone who is so adept at spreading hope, living among them.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Masked Mom, what a beautiful post. There IS hope . . . everywhere, if we just look. Thank you for sharing that beautiful story.

    ReplyDelete
  4. My hope is a constant thing, and I don't know what it's like to not have it. I'm glad you are in a place to help give others hope when they've lost it. I'm so sorry for your loss.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sadly I guessed where this was going by the time I got to the third paragraph. And how fortunate you were to have been a part of his life - AND, how lucky he was to have you in his life too. I like that he looked for hope at the grocery store. It is cool that he even thought about it when he was making his store list. I wish I could have known him. Thanks for writing this poignant and thoughtful piece.

    ReplyDelete
  6. In my post early this morning I used the phrase "with hope that springs eternal, within the human breast" while referring to baseball. I find it incomprehensibly refreshing to be able to share similar views and paths with others of a like mind. A beautiful and inspiring post, MM.

    ReplyDelete
  7. That's a wonderful tribute to what sounds like a lovely man. It's good to know that we can find hope in the darkest places, even if only for a short time.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Aw :(
    I'm sorry for your loss, may God comfort you and his family. Beautiful story though. Glad he hung in there, clung to hope, and that you helped and still continue to spread hope to those around you (:

    ReplyDelete
  9. I'm sorry for your loss. But the story made me smile. We all need to remember to pick up hope and love and patience while we are out in the world...And probably a few more things too....

    ReplyDelete
  10. I'm happy he found health and hope for those two precious years and that, when he died, that's what he knew.

    I'm so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing a bit of him with us.

    ReplyDelete