Was my Love Enough

“I need to go home.” She whispered it under her breath as I walked by her. I had just clocked in at work and was heading to get report. I walked passed Kathy sitting in a chair looking out the window like she always did. Today it was raining out. She was fiddling with the button on her sweater as she stared out at the grey skies. Today I think that the wrinkles by her eyes were glistening, she must have shed some tears. My heart ached as I continued on past her and smiled “Good afternoon Kathy!” She met my eyes and barely lifted the corners of her mouth before heaving a sigh and returning her stare.

“I need to go home.” It was nice out today and Kathy was pushing at the front door. The alarm was sounding overhead to alert the staff of her attempted escape. The door remained locked, but today Kathy was determined. She rattled the door to the extent her whole body was shaking. I approached to redirect her back into the common area, “Kathy, we were just about to play cards.” She shoved me away with a firm no. I had to place myself between her and the door to stop the alarms. The other residents were getting anxious. “Kathy, I can see you're upset. Can we sit on the couch to talk about it?” “No!” she wailed, “I just need to go home.” She grabbed a hold of my shoulders with both of her hands and squeezed with all her might. I rested my hands on both of hers,“We can't do that right now, you don't have a ride. Why don't we play cards until we can arrange that for you?” I needed to placate her. She dropped her hands from my touch and stormed off to her room instead.

“I need to go home.” She was still at the lunch table long after lunch was over. She refused to let us take her plate from her, even though she was circling around the same bite of food. This meal always made her slow to leave the table. I'm not sure what it was about chicken pot pie, but in the end she was pushing around the pile of peas every time. She would scrape up the last bit of sauce and lick her fork again and again. She would close her eyes and swim in the last drops of flavor, before returning to pushing the peas. I wondered if Kathy had her own famous chicken pot pie, or if her mom made as good of recipe as the one we served. When she finally decided she took all she could eat, she'd take her plate to the sink and rinse it herself. She was more than willing to help out on chicken pot pie day.

“I need to go home.” I heard the shout down the hall. I ran towards the sounds of cupboard doors slamming. I go into Kathy’s room to find all of her belongings are in the middle of her bed. She has wrapped them in the comforter blanket, almost like she is going to place it on the end of a stick to better carry over her shoulder. She packed like a ten year old running away. “I need to go home,” she repeated with her anguish not packed away. Her voice trembled with sadness and frustration at her situation. “This is your home Kathy,” I told her as I pulled her into a hug. The realization of her being stuck here was always taken better with love. I rubbed her back and eventually she brought her hands to give me a hug back. I set her on her couch to flip through a magazine while I put her belongings away.

“I need to go home.” I barely heard her say it over the noise all the visiting families voices. She made her way past all of the strangers. She smiled at the children as they ran past her feet. Yet you could see the envy in her eyes as they were running towards another woman, their grandma. Kathy never had any visitors. Holidays and gatherings were always extra hard for her. I tried to pair her with families that were more than willing to invite her into their group. But her loneliness and envy would always turn into aggression. Other families had a hard enough time with their own loved ones. So I took to walking around with Kathy while she held my hand. We walked to avoid the emptiness and the obvious that we weren't going anywhere with purpose, like the home that she yearned to return to.

“I need to go home.” She insisted on saying it even though it took everything out of her. She lay in her bed. I was stroking her head with a cool washcloth. Her body was shutting down.  The dementia was making her body forget how to maintain homeostasis. “I'm here for you Kathy, when you're ready you can go home to Jesus.” I knew it was going to be the only real way that she would get to leave like she had been craving. Death would be her only escape from this Nursing home. Heaven was not exactly the home she wanted to escape to, but it would have to be enough.

“I need to go home.” It had been another tough day for me, as I was just finishing up packing Kathy’s belongings. I agreed to stay over to help pack up one of my favorite patients things. My coworker hugged me in understanding. Even though I dealt with death pretty often, it never got easier. Especially when she was one of my favorites. “Be careful on your way,” my coworker waved goodbye to me as I clocked out and left. I would never forget Kathy. I cried again at never knowing why she so desperately needed to go home. I just hope that my love for her while I was at work was enough for her.