Betty

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I work with old people. Today i walked into her door w/ a huge smile & questioned, ” how are you?” she looked @ me & began to cry as she said, “I hate this darned thing.” She was referring to her bag attached to her side, where the waste products go after it has been digested. i intrinsically hesitated yet touched her shoulder to sympathize w/ her without showing a hint of pity. She composed herself, & we talked the normal first day conversation of acquaintance.

Then as the hours progressed, & as i had finished her requests, we sat opposite of one another. I let her talk because i realized after i leave, only the walls will hear her sighing, her mind- her thoughts, & her pillow- her tears. She talked mainly of names…so many names- her sisters, her brother, her children, her late husband, her cancer, her grandchildren. She went through names that she never forgot, but who seemed 2 have forgotten her. She quietly complained, while i inferred her suppressed bitter disappointment.

We ate lunch & i announced my need 2 leave. She subtly mentioned her hopes 2 see me again, & one thing that she said in a most profound sentiment was,

“It seems that whenever people come & walk through that door, they just end up leaving.”

Why do people choose to forget??
:: In a hello, people can bring such an equal amount of pain as they can bring joy. ::

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