The Stream

Brenda spent the last week of her life in hospice. After about 18 months in a nursing home, her health deteriorated to the point where we were beyond taking measures to keep her alive. At this point, it was all about making sure she was comfortable.

As mentioned in yesterday’s post, November 18th was our anniversary. We had been together, living as husband and wife, for 17 years.

While she slept, I stepped outside of the hospice. They had a nice, well-maintained garden with a stream and a pool. Even though it was mid November, it wasn’t very cold out. I sat on the bench and wrote this poem.

The Stream
© W. Scott Grant
November 18, 2001 1:45 pm

The droplet cascades
Over the stones
Gurgling, bubbling, splashing
Sometimes gently, calm smooth
Sometimes violent, quick rushing

Yet each droplet finds its way
To the pond
Soft ripples
Abundant life

Today one droplet has found its way
To the pond
One among many, but
Unique, special
~ mine

No more crashing through the stones
No more bubbling or gurgling
No more violent rushing
Only peace

One thought on “The Stream

  1. Brenda’s drop slipping into one pond, yours slipping into another… both experiencing a long-awaited peace. I am a big fan of Hospice. In my experience, people wait too long to avail themselves of the many benefits. I’m glad it soothed you and helped you find your way. A beautiful and heartfelt piece, Scott. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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