Blessed

This morning, Sunday, I have to get up and at ‘em early, early, early. Well, early for me. I’m not an early morning person. I used to be an early morning person. I had kids and a job and, at one time, a long commute. But I hadn’t even heard the seven a.m. bells of the UnitedChurch when I found myself eating breakfast and sipping that first cup of dark roast. On the counter was my dad’s big, old travel mug (thanks Dad) full of Kicking Horse Coffee, ready to get me to the Hike for Hospice epicentre. The Community Centre— ah heck—the arena. There probably isn’t enough coffee in the world to make me a morning person again, but this is my very first Hike for Hospice. I get excited about new adventures, so it was a restless night. I’m not a hiker, I’m a Hike for Hospice volunteer. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do but I get to wear a bright, blue T-shirt. I’ve been given a couple of shiny pompoms to shake, and a noisemaker to blast when the hikers emerge from their pep rally. I must be a cheerleader. I wasn’t a cheerleader in high school, I was a field hockey player. The cheerleaders didn’t even show up for our games. The volunteers have been told our job is to make sure every hiker who sets out knows they’re appreciated. We’re cheerleaders. No short skirts but we’re shivering in our blue shirts, shaking our pompoms and making a bit of noise with the noisemakers. I wonder what the neighbours will think of the noise. But it is the very least we can do for such an amazing cause. This community is very blessed to have a hospice. Indeed we are.

So, how the H E double sparkly pompoms, does one let the Hike participants, donors, sponsors and organizers know how important their contribution to Hospice Prince Edward really is? Everyone who shows up on this cold, wet, overcast Sunday morning proves their commitment to this amazing community institution, just by being there. Am I right? I’m right. Little kids, babes in strollers and in arms, dogs on leashes, hipsters, hippies and hip-replacements, all of them bundled up against the weather, are hiking one of the two routes through town, showing their support for compassionate, end-of-life care. Is it enough we have a hospice in our community? I hope it is. The hikers took off smiling and waving and dancing and laughing. Some of them have never, in their life, known the need for palliative or hospice care, but they care enough to be out on a Sunday morning when they could be at home, warm and dry. Some of the hikers are way too young to know what’s going on. Some of the hikers are just young enough to understand the need but might believe hospice is for other people. Some hikers are the families and/or the friends of people who lived their last days in a hospice, or in need of hospice care. And some. Well, and some are relieved because there will be a choice when the time comes.

Music. Food. Laughter. Selfies. Press photos. Jokes. Friends and families catching up. New friendships being forged. It was a party. It was cold and it was wet and it was overcast. I find myself thinking of my parents and wishing there had been a hospice for them when they were taking their end of life journey. Thanks for the travel mug, Dad. You and Mom would have had a good laugh at my cheerleading skills, or lack thereof.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca