Seeds of Life

This morning, I attended a religious ceremony held for one of my patients. He had been hospitalized for a few months, his physical and cognitive states were declining, and on a quiet late afternoon, surrounded by his loved ones, his wished everyone farewell, and off he went to greet his late family, on the other side of our world.

He was one of my first patient overall, and the first who needed specific care and follow-up. A very gentle soul. Classy, elegant, always dressed up to the nines. Always smiling, pleasing, reassuring. His wife had moved to a special care facility since she was no longer able to be home. He loved her so, so much. He always spoke about her, about their trips together, the wonderful children they had raised together. He always said she was the love of his Life, and how grateful he was to her. I could feel his soul shiver wholeheartedly every time he was talking about her and his children. He had a lot of humor, always managing to speak his truth out with grace and gentleness.

We had so much fun together. Singing, cooking and talking, going to the market, sipping a coffee on the terrace, or just going for a walk in nature. He was always moving with intention, he was always thinking things through, he was always preventing his words to hurt. Despite the disease catching up quickly and the weaknesses he was forced to face.

He had shared many stories with me. The encouragements he was whispering to his children after a defeat. The uprightness he treated his staff with. The way he serenaded in his wife’s ears. These values, he built; like his family, his business, his community. Relentlessly, passionately. Unconditionally. Never letting go, always flowing with Life, no matter what.

One Wednesday evening, we had dinner under the porch, watching the sun set over the countless pine trees. We were talking about how much he had done for his family, and the terrible events that punctuated his lifetime. He said to me: “We know what we’ve seen, but we don’t know what we can see.” What he meant by that, is that we get to choose our path. That we walk our path, and despite that, there might be things we wished we could have done otherwise. That the possibilities we’re not aware of are infinite, hiding behind the curtain. We know the curtain is hiding the view, but still, we do not attempt to glance through it. Because of what? Because we are afraid to feel the warmth of the sun on our skin.

There is so much we do in our Life, or let’s say, that we think we do. There are things we plan to do, there are things we plan not to do, and there are things we never get to find the time to do. Life happens only in this moment, and each moment, we make a decision. Glued together, these stretched now moments of times, become our Life. Time goes by, years happen, and one day, we wake up, and it’s too late. Because we get diagnosed with a terminal illness, because we’ve lost everyone around us, or because we never gave our heart a chance to feel the Light.

Life is not easy, trust me. Life is freaking hard. With its ups and downs, with its winding roads, detours, and road blocks. With its nasty characters, persona non grata, soulless beings. But Life does not create itself as such. We do create that for ourselves. Seeing the glass half empty is a choice. Considering others as enemies is a choice. Being a victim of our personal story is a choice. As well as living in the past, feeling stuck in the present, and not projecting into the future.

As a marathon runner, my dear patient step foot in many countries, and ran countless times around the earth. He had the occasion to run to the finish line, or to give up. Giving up for him was not an option. He kept running. He kept breaking his personal best, and continued to race until the end. He has had countless now moments of times. He had used them appropriately, so much so, that many souls will mourn him and his legacy for years to come.

We are Life. Each moment. We make Life, our Life, in each passing moment. We embody what we believe to be fair, what we believe we think we deserve, what we believe is our path. My patient chose to believe in Life. In Goodness. In Love. What he harvested in return was so, so much more.

With love and gratitude,

Caroline

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