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Comfy
Author: D Anthony, D-Rose Impressions, 10/99
Every
morning, before I face the world, I kneel next to where
you lay. And with one hand on the Bible and the other
on you, I pray. I pray for the world… for my Mom…
for me. In you I find comfort. With you I find the strength
to face another day. Furry inanimate object or not - You
have become my source of hope… my link to my meaning.
*
In my last year of college, I decided to test the corporate
waters and earn some real money by applying for a coop.
My first interview was the setting when I first met Diana.
Diana was a middle-aged middle manager at a large corporation
who never learned to make it she needed to lose her humanity.
In fact, I was pretty sure I was high on the candidate
list when, in the interview, my summation of a previous
summer job teaching children culminated with her tears.
I remember sitting there in awe of everything. I remember
her saying if we hire you we will have you doing this...
and this... and that. I remember thinking okay I don't
have a clue how... but if you say so.
I was hired. She took me under her wing, showed me the
ropes, gave me opportunities and encouragement, and had
me doing this... this... that... and more. For three years
she was more than a manager. She was more like a second
Mom. I still recall the conversation we had when it
was time for me to move on. With tears in her eyes she
congratulated me on my performance. With matching puffy
eyes I thanked her for the stage - to which she replied
that she was sure with or without her I would have found
my stage.
In my new position, I didn't see Diana nearly enough.
After moving to another office I heard through the grapevine
she had been ill. Later I heard it was Cancer. By the
time I went to visit her in the hospital coworkers were
warning me not to go. But I had to see her no matter what.
I stopped in the gift shop on the way to her room, trying
to get my thoughts together - trying to figure out what
to say. The woman in the gift shop suggested a lightly
packed stuffed animal. She told me people in Diana's
condition often times likes to have something they can
squeeze… something they can hold on to. She also
indicated that people visiting ill people instinctively
want to hold the patient's hand, many times contrary to
the patient's wishes. A stuffed animal sometimes eases
that discomfort. I picked up a cute little puppy to be
gift-wrapped. The puppy worked like magic. Not only did
Diana like it, but she seemed to recognize me.
A few weeks later when I went to visit a much weaker,
less vibrant Diana, her daughter interrupted my introduction
with - "You're the one who gave her the puppy! She
really seems to love it. When she's awake she holding
it. When she's sleep she holding it. When we take it out
of her hand during her bath she frets until we return
it. Thank you." Then I visited with her for the
last time. She was holding the puppy.
Several years later, while visiting my Mom during some
testing, I again found myself in a hospital gift shop.
With warm memories of the impact on Diana I decided on
this life like lovable furry Teddy Bear with a brown polka
dot ribbon for a tie. Mom loved him. She later told me
how everybody thought he was so great … so unique.
Mom also informed me that when it would get cool in her
hospital room at night she would sleep with him on the
exposed side of her face. She named him Comfy.
Comfy came home with Mom and found a resting place on
her bed. Mom didn't have many local friends (since recently
relocating to move in with me) - but the ones she had
saw and heard about Comfy.
Later that year, my Mom's doctor informed me that she
had suffered a stroke. We were advised that she should
be admitted into the hospital for further testing. I remember
not being overly concerned at the time because we could
see daily improvements in her condition. She asked for
Comfy the night we admitted her - but I apologized I had
forgotten him. I assured her that Comfy would be there
the next morning - and he was.
My Mom took a turn for the worse after being admitted.
Instead of getting progressively better - she got progressively
worse. For the next month and one half I spent as much
time as possible with her. No matter what I stayed
positive. I knew she would get better. The whole time
Comfy was there watching over her and keeping her company.
When she hurt Comfy was there. When she slept Comfy was
there. When she went down to be operated on Comfy was
there. When she cried Comfy was there. When she prayed
Comfy was there. When family and friends visited Comfy
was there. When we sang spiritual songs together Comfy
was there. When I sang spiritual songs to her because
she didn't speak anymore Comfy was there. When she
died Comfy was there.
Now everyday before I face the world I kneel at Mom's
bed and say a prayer. I ask God to take care of her -
and to give me the strength and wisdom to continue in
her footsteps until I see her again. I thank God, tell
my Mom I love her and kiss you.
Thank you Comfy!
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Your
thoughts on 'Comfy'
I am 52 and can relate to 'Comfy' I suffer from depression and even though I have good people around me I can still feel lonely but when I cuddle up to a teddy bear I feel better.
*
An absolutely
incredible article... actually brought me to tears... Thanks
for sharing. Kim G
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