My newest angel.

I have the hardest job in the world. I know that. But somehow I know it's what I was meant to do.

I do have crazy, (seriously) mean, sick, helpless, and miserable people that I work with every single day. But... I also get to meet wonderful, beautiful, smart, grateful, sweet, and special people. I have lost countless people that I have taken care of. And I have wanted to start some sort of a journal about them, and my memories and love. I need to stop putting it off. Because I want to remember these people for who they were, and who I became because of them.

(For the sake of privacy, I have edited names:))

Last Wednesday I lost someone who was a truly STRONG woman. She was a mother of five boys.(enough said right?!) She took care of her husband until his dying day, and his fight with cancer. And lived 16 years with out him.

When I met Wilma she was a cute chatty lady. She had parkinsons. Which is a brain disorder that causes tremors and makes movement and coordination a daily struggle. She also had Neuropathy in her hands, feet,and tongue. Damage to nerves or nerve groups.

Wilma was pretty independent, only asking for help when she wanted to hang out, or fell over and was embarrassed. Wilma would get very anxious very easily. I know mostly because she was upset she couldn't do exactly what she wanted when she wanted to do it.

Wilma kept having falls. She was having several a week, so for her safety, she was to use a walker and call us when she needed to get up and down. Even if she didn't need our help we wanted to be there to prevent falls. With that passing months it became harder for her to do things and for her to talk. Both of her diseases were working against each other. She required more help, which was perfectly fine with us. But made her feel sad, and discouraged. It was very hard to watch someone struggle physically when they were mentally 100% aware of what was going on. It was very stressful at times trying to please her when I couldn't understand what she wanted. After months and months of declining Wilma was placed on hospice. We were able to get more assistance and help her more with her daily activities. I remember one Sunday morning that she cried for three hours. I couldn't understand her, or what she wanted. It was truly heartbreaking. If it was up to her she would be up, dressed, and going a million miles an hour. Sadly, her body wouldn't allow this anymore. I was able to spend the last few days I had with Wilma telling her that even if she felt tired or like she had given up she hadn't. She was given medicine for pain, and died less than a week later.

I miss her. Bad. Every time I think about going to work she is part of my day. I will never forget all the disney movies we watched, the way she loved root beer, her love for her family, her smile first thing in the morning when I called her cutie, her picky picky ways, or her sweet voice saying I love you. I feel like this was such a blessing for her. To be able to be with her husband she has so long been without and to be free of any pain and struggle. That makes me happy, just like she did.