Reflecting on my Mortality

I deliver Meals on Wheels about once a month. I've been doing it for the last five years, on and off. The day that I deliver meals is one of mixed emotions. First, I feel warm knowing that I'm providing a tiny bit of companionship, a glimpse of the outside world, and a smile to people who may not have had contact with another person other than the last person who dropped of lunch. Then I feel a wave of sadness, because I hope that I'm not the only person they see that day.

The meals aren't award-winning, in fact, I'm sure most people wouldn't eat them if given the choice. But it's not about the food, not really. Instead, it's about wishing them well, asking how they are doing and trying to get them to smile. Some of them like to chat, tell stories. Others whisk their meal from my hands and scurry back into the confines of their apartment.

The buildings themselves are hot and smell of stale bodies that haven't moved. But, the stories that those walls could share. Shirly lived in Bangkok for two years, she was a wild and crazy soul, seeking adventures before she started the end of her life in the run-down apartments. Tim always shares stories of what he's doing, and he's always waiting in the lobby to get his meal first. Joan's had a nurse there the last two times I've delivered, but if it's not on Tuesday for her dialysis, she'd pull you inside and tell you stories about her family with pictures to go with it. These are my friends, if only for an hour once a month. They are my connection to a generation that is being lost. Do I call my own grandparents enough? What will happen when I age and need help with the things I take for granted now? Will Kieran have anything to do with me.

The ones that are most painful are the ones that you notice dissapear. My co-worker and I delivered a meal once and the man's meal from yesterday was still outside his door. We couldn't find anyone in the office, so we ended up leaving a message for the Meals coordinator. We can't be sure whatever happened, but his name is no longer on the list for meals. And then there's the lovely polish couple. When I first delivered meals, both the husband and wife would come to the door to get their food... sadly now, only Polly comes to the door.

It's a small thing that I can do, delivering these meager meals, but I encourage everyone to somehow reach out and give back to the community.