Healing on the Horizon

Almost 3 weeks ago, I recognized I was having symptoms in my work as a hospice nurse, of what I was referring to as ‘burn out’. When I spoke with a dear friend, she more succinctly identified what I was experiencing as, ‘compassion fatigue.’

Spot on. The more I reflected, I came to the awareness of how much my work as a hospice nurse had changed since Covid-19 arrived on the scene. While it is always emotionally stressful, especially as someone who is highly sensitive, to care for the dying and support their loved ones, I was not noticing the negative impact it was having on me when loved ones suddenly were restricted in seeing their dying family member.

I found myself setting up face time calls for families with their loved ones. An honor, to be able to serve in this way. Yet, prior to Covid restrictions, when family visited in person, I was not usually in the room for intimate, end of life exchanges. Needless to say, they were very moving. However, they were taking an unrecognized toll on me.

As a holistic nurse, with a special passion for educating caregivers, whether personal or professional, in the utmost necessity of holistic self-care, although my personal self care is excellent, I was not providing the same level for myself in my work.

I made the intuitive decision to take a 3 week hiatus.

As soon as I made the decision, I realized that I was still under-grieved over the loss of my precious, oldest grandson. Mitchell, who died in October, 2019, after a valiant fight for his life.

Mid way into my 3 weeks off, I received a letter from my daughter and son-in-law, inviting me to participate in a ‘remembrance’ exercise about Mitchell, that would involve reflecting upon, then sharing, my responses to 15 questions.

Do you have any regrets in your friendship with Mitchell?

I have two regrets that I never got to address with Mitchell.

I live in Florida, near the beach, so I have the luxury of taking myself there for grounding, nature appreciation and reflection, early in the mornings.

I chose, today, to open my heart in response to this question about one of my regrets while at, and in, the healing water.

The sky was partly cloudy, and promised rain.

I smiled. Mitchell loved to listen to rain and storms. My late husband shared that appreciation.

This morning, as I stood, knee deep, in the ocean,  I ‘spoke’ to Mitchell.

I began by telling him how much I missed him and spoke of my ‘water memories’ from his short lifetime, that we shared. I began to cry. I told him, through  a profusion of tears, of my regret that I did not push hard enough to get him to Florida for one last visit. I began to sob.

I then said, ‘I love you. I will always love you. I will never forget you. I know you always forgave me for any missteps in our relationship and you would not want me to harbor regret.” Continuing to sob, I thanked him for being my inspiration in not giving up my dreams of writing and in helping me to be an even more loving person, than he always told me I was.

I finally stopped crying. I blew my nose, cleaned my glasses, and when I looked up again, toward the horizon, I saw it…a rainbow. I felt a new level of healing. Thank you, Mitchell.