Love and Community

I first met him when I began visiting his wife as her hospice nurse. From the very beginning, it was clear: this was a man who loved deeply, fully, and without hesitation. For more than 60 years, he had cared for her, and as her health declined, he made sure not a single day passed without a warm bath, a nourishing meal, a gentle touch, and words that reminded her she was cherished. It was the kind of devotion we all hope to both give and receive in this life.

The night she died, he did something I will never forget. As I sat by her bedside, he brought me tea, making sure I was cared for, even as his world was changing. He tucked her in one last time, kissed her cheek, and whispered goodnight, not knowing it would be her final farewell.

After she was gone, I continued to check in on him. Weeks became months, months became years, and somewhere along the way, what began as visits turned into a friendship I now treasure. We talk every day. We share breakfasts and dinners. I became his DPOA, and I make sure he receives the kind of care he deserves as he ages. He has had his share of challenges, even a brief time on hospice, but true to form, his strength and determination pulled him back. In his own resilient way, he reminds me that the curtain isn’t ready to close just yet.

But this hasn’t been my work alone. His neighbors, hospice volunteers, friends, and his amazing caregiver have created a circle around him, a chorus of care ensuring that he never feels alone. His neighbors especially, have been nothing short of extraordinary, showing up in ways that continue to humble and surprise me. Whether it’s dropping off meals, checking in daily, sitting with him for company, walking his dog, or simply sharing laughter across the table, they have become an extension of his family. Their presence has been a living reminder that love and community are not bound by blood, but by the kindness we choose to give.

Just recently, he turned 96. We all gathered to celebrate, filling the evening with laughter, stories, and the music he loves most, Count Basie, and of course, Frank Sinatra. When “My Way” began to play, I couldn’t hold back my tears. The lyrics landed differently that night. From the moment I met him, he has insisted on living on his own terms. He showed us how to care for his wife his way. He’s shown us how to care for him his way. And even now, at 96, surrounded by people who love him, he is still doing it his way.

In the end, what I have witnessed is this: when love and community come together, they have the power to carry a person through both the everyday and the extraordinary. They can soften the edges of loss, amplify the joy of celebration, and remind us that none of us are meant to walk this road alone.

xo

Gabby