"My heart goes out to you..."
Yesterday, as Eric and I were driving past the park by our house, two people stood there holding each other. Not a hug, an extended embrace. The kind someone gives you when the unspeakable escapes trembling from your lips.
“She died”
“He asked for a divorce”
“The cancer is back”
You know the kind of words.
These two were in and out of my visual field in a moment, but I haven’t shaken the image of them.
There are moments in our lives that call for an embrace that can hold our heaving sobs. That invites them to start, and allows them to do their work inside the body. That says “I’m here” in such an embodied way that it cannot be dismissed.
How gorgeous is it that our broken heart can be partly mended by being pressed up against the heart of another.
That someone could drive by and have their own heart soften at the sight of it.
We drove past and I thought of the phrase, “my heart goes out to them”.
Then I saw this video, posted a few days ago by the Cleveland Clinic. A mother listens to to her departed daughter’s heart, now beating inside another.
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Humans can be magnificent. I am trying to stop doom-scrolling and remember that.
Happy Saturday.
Love, Nadia
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My father died rather suddenly three weeks ago today. I just shared this story this morning on Threads and thought it was perfect to also share here.
Just after he elected to start comfort care only, the kidney doctor told my father, “Your transplanted kidney function is 13% which means you need to go back on dialysis but I don’t recommend it given everything you have going on.”
We explained we were about to transfer to the palliative care floor so it was a moot point.
Then my father said, “Can you give the kidney to someone else? After all, someone else died and gave it to me.”
The doctor and I looked at one another across the bed as he explained, “That’s so generous of you but we can’t do that.”
My dad said, “Anyone can have any of my parts.”
I wouldn’t call my father a generous person. When I was in early recovery and broke, I would ask to borrow a dollar to contribute to the meeting and he would insist on being paid back. The times he loaned me money in my life, he charged me interest equivalent to the bank. I know he thought he was teaching me a lesson.
The actual lesson he taught me is our bodies are just the meat sacks holding our souls and spirits.
When I was growing up, he would say, “I hope I die close to trash day so you can just put my body in the trash can.”
No wonder I’ve never felt uncomfortable sitting with hospice patients after they die.
Literally three hours after he died, I got a call from “Saving Sight.” The caller was very quiet and apologetic. What a job she has. Thanks to my work, I knew why she was calling.
I interrupted her spiel, “I work in hospice. I know why you’re calling. Yes, you can have my father’s corneas & the eyeballs. He would be happy to donate them.”
She was clearly relieved not to have to give me her whole pitch. We even laughed about it.
When I called the mortuary, I reminded them, “It’s on the forms but he had a pacemaker so don’t forget to take it out so you don’t blow anything up!”
Then I asked him to send it to me. As the owner of a mortuary, he didn’t bat an eye.
In one of his many notes to me, he told me to keep his top set of dentures but there are still missing in his house, so I figured his pacemaker would be a dark & hilarious keepsake. Especially since I have one too.
But then, I discovered you can donate them to veterinary cardiologists to use in dogs.
His pacemaker is being sent off this week to help save a dog’s life.
My dad’s meat suit didn’t mean much to him but it will mean so much to others. I love how he’s living on this way.
💕
Just what I needed this morning, Pastor Nadia, after seeing President Trump’s post in papal robe; such idolatrous blasphemy! Thank you for reminding me of the beautiful selflessness of others who so generously give.🙏💕