I was wrapping an elderly woman's foot on Friday afternoon...she was utterly adorable and sweet, I was happy she was my last patient of the day...because the last patient is the one I get to spend the longest with...and then she looks at me and for some reason tells me about her family...her little one...comprised now of only a daughter. She goes onto tell me she had a son, who served his country in Vietnam...and was exposed to agent orange and died at 33...with with her little foot still held within my hands, I continue to wrap...and talk and listen...she tells me she had a wonderful husband...and her daughter who loved her....but she still thinks of him...the son she lost... everyday...and looks forward to seeing him soon, she is afterall 88, and not having the courage to ask (for it may have pained us both equally knowing she hadn't seen him for 30, 40 or perhaps 50 yrs. now)...but after I removed my gloves...and washed my hands, I sat down on her bed and put my arms around her...and told her I knew her pain. I asked her how long it took her to go through the worst of it all...I told her my struggles, and she eased me with her response..."my Lord, it's only been 17 months...it's early yet, it took me a few years...but you need to stay strong and I think you are...". I guess I am....for there are no other choices here...and we are as strong as we allow ourselves to be. Adam's death has taught me much...I know what's important and what's not...I know what's good and sincere...I recognize insincerities...I raidiate in warmth of those who truly care...and distance myself from anyone who causes my heart to ache...and I keep my heart open...and remember all the Joy that once lived inside...it never escaped...it's still in there...living...breathing...waiting...for my heart to continue healing....