Peaceful Serenity

2014-07-25 20.01.22

Peaceful Serenity on the River

I awoke this morning at 5am.  Knowing me, that’s not too unusual since I tend to wake up early by my own inner alarm clock.  But the thought in my head was what I found intriguing.  You see, I woke up with a prompting to contact my deceased Dad’s pulmonologist.  Quite frankly, it’s been a long time since I’d even thought of him ~ probably since my Dad passed away 2 years ago, June 21st ~ the first day of summer ~ Dad’s favorite day after Christmas.

But I woke up thinking that I needed to hug this doctor who was friendly with our family and instantly became an even closer friend after 3 harrowing weeks of my Dad being in ICU.  I know it sounds odd because it sounds odd to me.  But I want to write him a letter, telling him that I want to stop in to his office to hug him.  Just to let him know how much we still think of him.  He tried every heroic measure possible to save my Dad and we appreciated how much he cared, how hard he tried and how he took 3 women under his wing while he tried to save the husband and Dad that they loved.

As I sit here with tears falling down my cheeks, trying to type as fast as my mind is whirring, I am bereft in understanding why I should be crying today after all this time.  It’s not an anniversary of his death nor any special day at all.  But as I sit here in my family room, the house all quiet, everyone sleeping peacefully and even the cat curled up by my side, I feel such an intense gratitude for this man.  Perhaps it’s the overwhelming realization of the amazing tenderness he showed to us, all the while trying to heal his patient who truly would never heal.  It was the simple human kindness which was given in such a caring way that I remember.  When I think back to those scary times, in my mind’s eye, I see Dr. R acting like a shepard and we, acting like sheep, holding onto his every word, praying for a miracle and hoping for a gift.

Maybe my prompting is for Dr. R and not for me.  Perhaps it is I who can give him some comfort now, let him know that we know he did his best and how much we appreciated him.  Surely it is not easy for a physician to lose a patient, especially a caring doctor like Dr. R.  I’ve had many doctors in my life and there are a few with whom I have such a relationship.  How can you not have a caring relationship when your doctor heals you?  There’s a special bond between doctors and patients, especially oncologists.  At least, that’s my experience, but that’s a story for another day.

Who know, maybe my Dad is reaching out from the Heavens this morning to me.  All I can tell you is that hot tears keep streaming down my face this morning and try as I might, they keep coming as I type.  So I let them flow with abandon.  There’s nobody to hear my occasional sniffle.  Only the cat to meow when I jostle her by getting another tissue.  By the time my family awakens, I will be ship-shape, but with this special moment tucked away in my heart.

Thanks for sharing this moment with me.  I don’t want to lose the feeling so I am publishing this post.  It’s that peaceful serenity that envelops my heart now.  The reminder that we may pass away, but our loving spirit remains.

Shine On!



29 thoughts on “Peaceful Serenity

  1. Oh, what a touching post!! ❤ Funny, even I woke up at 5 am today, I don't know why..I think writing a letter to that doctor and hugging him is a wonderful wonderful idea! 🙂 I always think it is important and beautiful to tell and show people when they have touched your heart in a special way, because I know at least for me, that would mean the world to me and make my life so meaningful! 🙂 I am sure your father wants you to give the doctor a hug too! 🙂 Maybe that is his message to you 🙂 Lots and lots of Love to you beautiful Yvonne! 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤

    • I sent the card with the same photo on the front right after I wrote the blog post Trini. Thank you so much for your kind comment and for your enthusiastic support. I heartily agree that we need to act on our promptings and reach out to touch others. Thank you for bringing such happy light into my life! ♥ Lots of love to you Trini! ♥

  2. Once again, you tell what I need to hear. 😀

    Oddly, I’m up early too today… amongst other things, pondering that we should consider a new pulmonologist for Mr C.

  3. Grief does not have a timeline. You really never know when it will hit. I find myself crying at the oddest if times over the loss if my mother. Like you, I have considered writing to my mother’s surgeon. I believe he was the only one who truly cared and he did all the right things to care for her. Your pits today had inspired me to actually sit down and write it. I think it will make him feel better; it will most certainly help me. Thank you for your daily inspirations!

  4. Yvonne,
    I can identify with your story, and understand your feelings.

    One day, after our girls volleyball team had won a state championship, I received a letter at school, form a most unexpected source. It was Dr. W, my orthopedic specialist, who treated and monitored me after I was paralyzed by polio.

    In the letter he said that word had gotten to him in Florida, where he had retired, of my success as a volleyball coach, through his son Steve, who, ironically, was a colleague of mine, while working at an engineering firm, some years prior.

    He said:”I aways knew you could accomplish whatever you set your mind to. You proved that to me, while you overcame the effects of polio, during your recovery with me at the convelescent hospital.”

    I can’t fully express what meaning that letter had for me. He was the doctor who was there from the beginning; not just for me but my family as well. He performed two corrective surgeries due to the polio; one when I was 12 yrs. old and the other at 15. One ankle fushion and a spinal fushion, due to scoliosis. And he only would receive in payment, what the insurance company had allowed for the surgery. He knew the financial burden, of the surgeries, was something my parents could do without.

    I, as you, Yvonne, and I hope many others, are fortunate to attest to the truth, that there are many doctors who are in their vocation, for a reason which goes beyond monitary motivation.

  5. You have a beautiful spirit and a gift for writing what’s in your heart. Thank you for sharing your morning. You can’t imagine how often we think of your Father and your Mother.
    Aunt Rita

  6. This is a beautiful heartfelt sharing and like all grief, we never know when we will be touched by it. How you know when you have healed through your grief, is your ability to think of others and to take such a kind action to consider the feelings of your Dad’s doctor. I am sure he will appreciate this wonderful gesture.


  7. I am so glad you opened to the experience and let your tears flow. Sometimes I think we’re not meant to fully understand – we are a vehicle to something very powerful happening. You attract and hold light, Yvonne, and then always, always fill up with it, expand it, and send it back out to the Universe. Holding you in my heart in your sadness and grateful you are embracing the love you are feeling. XO

  8. The loss of a loved one is a terrible loss and it isn’t measured in days or years. I have always believed the medical community who work so hard to save our dear ones lose a little bit of themselves each time a patient dies – it hurts for them too. Your kindness and compassion shines brightly in a world where people often forget to say ‘thank you for trying…’

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