For Years

 

For years I could see the closest torch
And related to its grace.
How it moved, and where it went,
And why it stood in place.

 

As I approached this guiding light
I found a frail old man;
Weathered soul and tired mind;
Alone and without plan.

 

He questioned faith and talked
Of Love, while staring into night.
For hurt he was, and blind
As well, from staring at his light.

 

So many steps, so many plans,
Had led him to this fate.
How strong he was, but now it’s lost,
So I must take his place.

 

 

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I am coming to the end of my planned stay on the island. I have stayed a few months longer than I initially intended, but who could blame me. I was able to defer re-enrollment into my third year of school and will be rejoining the class that started a year behind me. I will begin again in late January.

 

The last few days have been challenging emotionally. It is the first time ever that I have celebrated the holidays away from home and family.   It also marked the first Christmas eve that I have left out sunglasses, an energy drink, and a bottle of sunscreen,  rather than the traditional cookies and milk for Santa and his reindeer.

 

During the last 8 months I have developed some general familiarity with the natural history of cancer. Most, but not all, of the clients that I have met while here have had an oncologic diagnosis.  I am no expert, but with the limited amount that I have retained,  I’m led to the conclusion that poor Rudolph’s red nose is most likely a malignant melanoma.  Despite this, all he can do is just keep leading, and giving his heart to everyone else.  It may be the eggnog talking, but I think most of the residents somehow share Rudolph’s sense of bravery and purpose.

 

It is endlessly strange for me to see hundreds of blinking lights rigged up in the palms that sway in the 85 degree heat of the island.   It certainly has provided for a wonderful effect.  There is a sort of Clark Griswold-esque magic to the decorations that adorn the grounds of Altamount this holiday week. The added touch of putting up and decorating a  real balsam fir was an absolute home run for encouraging the holiday spirit. It was donated and shipped down by the family of a past client from Vermont.  It was the property owner Johnny who was courageous enough to scale the palms and rig the lights last week.

 

A sense of indomitable courage is exactly how I would describe one of Johnny Sullivan’s most admirable character traits.  Not only am I impressed by the holiday decorations, but by  the whole thing he has created down here.  It was Johnny who took the biggest risk in the joint venture that was now Altamount Hospice Inc. – after all it was his property.

 

Eventual business partners, Johnny and Andrew Simon have known several dimensions to their life-long relationship. They were childhood friends, high school baseball team mates, frat brothers at Northeastern University, and now they were neighbors again. At this point, they certainly do not hesitate to wax nostalgic on any of these past incarnations of their relationship.  As they had grown up and cultivated mutual understanding and respect in one another, these friends still could not be separated.

 

 Johnny talks about the history of the island, and his land, with any and all opportunities. He will often reflect on his grandparents and their gift of the property. They had willed it to him after their passing.  I am sure they would be impressed with what he has done with the place. Now it was a business, an oasis, and one stair step closer to where Johnny’s beloved grandparent hopefully were.  Johnny has commented that he once read a quote that the virgin islands was a place where Angels stopped to rest before leaving the earth and heading to the heavenly realm. His place was a literal manifestation of this.

 

Although he doesn’t have a medical background, Johnny’s business savvy and impressive work ethic serve him well to contribute to the day-to day operations around here.  He is really the de facto business manager, head groundskeeper, and superintendent of this place.  He stays very busy – and I suppose this is good for him.

 

It was back a few months ago that during a conversation regarding one of the clients, Johnny confided in me that he is a recovering alcoholic.  He has been sober for almost 10 years, and isn’t ashamed to talk about his history. In fact he is, and very well should be, proud of his sobriety.

 

Johnny attributes the spiritual and physical transformation that he  experienced to the purpose and meaning he has found in Altamount.  Johnny wasn’t a religious guy. He didn’t follow the traditional 12 step program to recovery, and he certainly didn’t develop a consciousness contact with a specific God.  He did make a fearless decision to turn his life around – and in that process, it helped him , and many other breathe easy again.

 

I recently learning about the importance of taking a “spiritual history” the other day from a visiting chaplain.  Immediately I was appreciative of her approach. She told me that it is critical to not project our own beliefs (or lack thereof) onto those we serve.

 

She commented, from her perspective,  “most folks that I see these days were actually believers in some other ambiguous higher power, and not any specific individual religion. ” This developing  truth led her to always approach spirituality in her clients by asking the simple question

 

“What helps you breathe?”

 

She shared that the word spirituality is actually derived from a Latin word that translates “to breathe”. Used in a different context, also represents the Latin phrase “to die.”  It was in this understanding that she found it particularly a helpful approach with those that she supported in the hospice.  She could cut to the chase quickly appreciating how to support the life of the dying person she was with.

 

She detailed that for some individuals, the answer is simply prayer, attending church, or developing and practicing their faith.  For others, it is more externally focused by doing good unto others and projecting positive vibrations.   For some it gets even more interesting and sometimes convoluted.

 

After learning from the chaplain, I now have a better sense of how Johnny could have developed the strength to conquer his addiction and maintain a healing inertia.  He found his breath in his current vocation.  He blended his natural skills and interests, and coupled those with a service that could alleviate suffering in this world.  With lungs full of air,  he was inspired to maintain sobriety and keep providing this blessed service to the world.