Chapter 30 - George and Dorothy

I don't think of myself as a typical Hospice volunteer.  The volunteers I have come into contact with are remarkable people who exude the quiet patience, empathy, and genuine concern for a person going through the most difficult days of their lives.  They are these amazing people who can set aside the busy pace of their own lives to step into another person's moment in a very meaningful way.  The provide respite in a unique way that a caring stranger can, without the history, they can simply step into an important moment for a patient.

At the conclusion of my firefighting career, I opted to be a Hospice volunteer for one year to repay an old debt.  I did not have high expectations for my one year tour of Hospice.  My experiences with death and dying were some of the most difficult times of my firefighting career.  I thought to actively spend time with people who were in the process of dying would suck some of the life out of me. 

I continuously am shocked at the amount of love and life that I found in Hospice.  I am not a Hallmark kind of guy. As I have said before my emotional availability can be directly associated with the number of beers I drink

I am in my seventh year as a Hospice volunteer  with no expectation that my volunteer service will end anytime soon.  

Hospice has taught me how to live in and appreciate another person's moment.  I will always remember with great appreciation the patient (thank you Bruce) that taught me to be in his current moment and not what I planned for his moment to be.  In my preparation for my initial visit to a new patient (Bruce), I read the write up in his bio.  Bruce and he lived his entire life in San Francisco.  Before my initial visit, I studied San Francisco, past, present and future.  I was over prepared to talk to Bruce.

I knocked on the door of his room and one of the first things I said to him was "I heard you are from San Francisco"  

He looked up and me and for the next 20 minutes told me how he hated San Francisco and his life there.  With my entire script ruined and absolutely no backup, I sat down and listened to him.  What he needed to say and wanted to say, did not have a thing to do with San Francisco..

I learned a lot of things at Hospice because a lot of things did not go the way I had planned them.  Listening to a person instead of inserting my great plans and dialog turned out to be surprisingly easy and a very natural thing to do. 

Listening this way is not a skill that comes to me naturally.  I am like almost every man on the planet, I assume that every situation in life needs my perspective, advice, and great idea's to achieve a balanced state.  I relearn the listening skill every time I visit a Hospice patient.  When I listen, I meet writers, poets, hot rod builders, and people who lived the history I have only read about in books.  I met people who traveled to places on my own bucket list.  I have found people at the end of their lives that lived their lives in ways that I can only aspire to.  

When I got the call about George I read his brief bio.  He was a retired minister who lived in the area with his wife of over 50 years.  George had spent almost 2 decades in South Korea where his 4 children were born.  He was a published author and an active volunteer for various causes in the community.  Not a ton of detail, but I understood he would take me to the place I would need to go to find who he was. 

When we first met, the first words out of his mouth were "Do you want to play Gin Rummy?"

"Yes, but you are going to have to teach me"  I said and he smiled broadly and motioned for me to sit down.  I knew we were going to get along well when I asked him if he was going to take it easy on me because I was a beginner.  He smiled that beautiful broad smile of his and looked me right in the eye and give me a definitive "NO!".  He loved it when he won and smiled a little more broadly when I beat him.

We had about 4 visits under our belt when I walked into find him watching CNN.  There had been another violent episode in the Middle East that resulted in a horrific loss of life.  I sat with him and I watched, I mentioned how little I knew about Islam and how I was embarrassed about knowing so little.

"What do you want to know about Islam?" George asked

"Everything", I said, and the next two hours passed in an eyeblink.  I learned about how Mohammed lived and how he became leader of the church.  He explained the difference in how Sunni and Shia interpret the Quran.  George's strong appreciation of Islam and the Quran was striking.  He said it was a beautiful religion, and like all major religions it could evolve into something that the creator did not intend.  There are people everywhere who will take the best parts of a religion and use them to bludgeon other people to suit their own purpose.  

It was then that I asked George about his own religion training and education.  I learned he graduated from Duke Divinity school and became an ordained minister for the Methodist Church. 

In subsequent visits, I asked George more about his work as a minister and began to understand how accomplished my Gin Rummy partner was.

George had traveled to a post war Korea where he founded the Incheon Urban Mission  (UIM).  He developed education programs and was active in working with Koreans to advocate for workers’ rights.  George returned to the US briefly to earn his PHD in Internal Relations and then he returned to South Korea. 

He was asked to speak at and pray for 8 men who were sentenced to death after falsely being accused to overthrow the government in North Korea.  He publicly prayed for them (in North Korea) and asked for non-military trials for these men.  As a result of this activity John himself was interrogated by North Korean Intelligence officers and deported to the United States.  This is when he wrote his first book.

In the middle of these compelling stories, George would often stop and regale me with the most recent accomplishments of his beloved children and grandchildren.  He stopped in the middle of his North Korean interrogation to tell me about his grandson slack lining or his ability to play an amazing array of musical instruments.  George was completely enthralled with how successful his beloved children and grandchildren were.  

After his return to the United States, George was named the Director of the Department of Social and Economic Justice for his church in Washington D.C.  His job was to support various social movements including and most notably The United Farm Workers movement and Cesar Chavez.

I have to pause here and say I am an old Hispanic man who has read about Cesar Chavez extensively.  To many Hispanic’s of my age, Cesar is the equivalent of Martin Luther King.

I was stunned, speechless that my Gin Rummy partner was telling me about what Cesar Chavez was like.  I had to stop a game I was winning when he was describing a hunger strike that he participated in with Cesar Chavez.  When Dorothy got home she showed me pictures of George and Cesar Chavez after the hunger strike.  

I had a million questions, and he answered every single one.

George never did retire, he climbed Longs Peak when he was 65 and did the Grand Canyon trek at the age of 70.  He continued to write and work to keep the local food bank stocked.  He traveled to Russia and was an interpreter for Amnesty International for undocumented North Korean refugee's.  

George died during the height of the Covid19 crisis at a nursing facility with his wife Dorothy at his side.

EPILOG

It is hard to get used to not wearing masks at the YMCA now.   In May of 2021 the Covid19 crisis show signs of starting to abate.  I am leaving the YMCA when I look down at my phone and see  GEORGE & DOROTHY.

"Dorothy?" I say into the phone

"Mike, is that you?" she asks

"Yes, Dorothy! How are you!"  I cannot believe she is calling me.

"I wanted to tell you about George's last dream, but I am now sure how you are going to process it, do you have time?"  Yes, I tell her, I have all the time she needs.

Dorothy tells me in the final days of his life George was telling her about a recurring dream of him surrounded by fire.  Shaken, Dorothy tells him they need to stop watching the Colorado wildfires on TV.  George manages to tell her no, it is a good dream the best dream.  

In days after George dies, there is little that can be done.  Family cannot gather and plans are put on hold.  Heart heavy, Dorothy watches the traditional burning of the palms for Ash Wednesday.  It is then that she understands the flame that was the best dream.  She said she heard his voice, explaining the fire was the Pentecost, the fire that represents the Holy Spirit.

He had a dream he was in the hands of the Holy Spirit before his death.  He was given the gift of seeing the loving embrace before it came to hold him one final time.  

"Tomorrow, May 23 is Pentecost Sunday, the family is finally able to get together" she said.  They are all finally going to be able to celebrate his life together in one room.

The slights of the week, the major and minor problems of the week vanish.  I am humbled in a way that is very hard even now to articulate.

I think at this late date in my life, I am still learning how to listen...