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Sit With Me and Hold My Hand
- Original short draft
I sat down by her bedside and did my best to smile. She asked me to hold her hand. Her immune system was not compromised, and I was not sick. So I did.
She looked older than any other old person I had ever met.
Life is impermanent. Do I believe in rebirth? It doesn't matter what I believe. For me it's not best to prepare too much for death. I rather prepare for tomorrow or next week. It's even better for me to stop and think about the words I say. And prepare those words so they benefit others.
I don't remember her name.
I remember how her hand felt. Her hand felt like my Grandma Lena's hand. A bit fleshy, a bit cold. She squeezed my hand pretty tight considering her age and her heart condition.
She told me she had recently turned 100 years old. She told me she wouldn't mind dying tonight because she wanted to die holding someone's hand. And my hand was warm. And my smile was kind.
I love when people say the right words.
I held her hand for just five minutes. I balanced my clipboard on my lap and wrote with my other hand. I asked her questions for my medical sheet, and she answered my questions with ease
And then the doctor arrived. I introduced the doctor to her. "Dr. Patel (not his real name) is here to make things a little better. He's the best! "
The woman looked at me. And said, "No Dear, you are the best. Thank you for sitting with me."
The doctor smiled and nodded at me and I left the room.
I returned to my position at the front desk of the Emergency Room. It was now midnight and a brand new day. And I was a brand new person. I had just held the hand of a 100-year old woman.
I no longer thought of hand-holding as a romantic gesture reserved for a first date.
I no longer thought of hand-holding as something a dad does when he crosses the street with his daughter.
I no longer thought of hand-holding as something that older couples do when they stroll around a park.
I no longer felt hand-holding was reserved only for people you love.
I didn't love her. But I loved holding her hand.
If I live to be 100, sit with me and hold my hand.
By Louis De Lauro 10/17
- Original short draft
I sat down by her bedside and did my best to smile. She asked me to hold her hand. Her immune system was not compromised, and I was not sick. So I did.
She looked older than any other old person I had ever met.
Life is impermanent. Do I believe in rebirth? It doesn't matter what I believe. For me it's not best to prepare too much for death. I rather prepare for tomorrow or next week. It's even better for me to stop and think about the words I say. And prepare those words so they benefit others.
I don't remember her name.
I remember how her hand felt. Her hand felt like my Grandma Lena's hand. A bit fleshy, a bit cold. She squeezed my hand pretty tight considering her age and her heart condition.
She told me she had recently turned 100 years old. She told me she wouldn't mind dying tonight because she wanted to die holding someone's hand. And my hand was warm. And my smile was kind.
I love when people say the right words.
I held her hand for just five minutes. I balanced my clipboard on my lap and wrote with my other hand. I asked her questions for my medical sheet, and she answered my questions with ease
And then the doctor arrived. I introduced the doctor to her. "Dr. Patel (not his real name) is here to make things a little better. He's the best! "
The woman looked at me. And said, "No Dear, you are the best. Thank you for sitting with me."
The doctor smiled and nodded at me and I left the room.
I returned to my position at the front desk of the Emergency Room. It was now midnight and a brand new day. And I was a brand new person. I had just held the hand of a 100-year old woman.
I no longer thought of hand-holding as a romantic gesture reserved for a first date.
I no longer thought of hand-holding as something a dad does when he crosses the street with his daughter.
I no longer thought of hand-holding as something that older couples do when they stroll around a park.
I no longer felt hand-holding was reserved only for people you love.
I didn't love her. But I loved holding her hand.
If I live to be 100, sit with me and hold my hand.
By Louis De Lauro 10/17
