A friend of mine died Sunday night–a resident from the assisted living facility where I work.
I met Jimmy some four years ago on the first day of my job. His spry step and enthusiasm for life belied his seventy-plus years. Mildly retarded, Jimmy may never have learned to read but he had a memory like a steel trap for the things that interested him. We called him the “Town Crier” because he memorized the monthly and daily calendars and each day would let the other residents know what was going on in the facility.
Jimmy loved music; sing-a-longs on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons were among his favorite activities, only topped by the professional singers that come in monthly to entertain the residents. Jimmy’s voice could be heard singing the lyrics to all the old standards, especially “Sentimental Journey,” “Tennessee Waltz” and “Vaya con Dios.” And he never passed up an opportunity to polka with me!
In the four years I had the pleasure of knowing Jimmy he never failed to meet me without a smile on his face, calling out “How you doing, Kim! I wasn’t sure you’d be here today!” as if my showing up to work was the best thing that happened to him that day.
Jimmy taught me to be patient with my limitations. I never saw him angry when he made a mistake. He’d just keep plugging along, doing the best he could.
He taught me to freely offer to help others-he was always quick to get another resident an extra napkin or a drink, or give them a hand if they needed help back to their apartment.
And best of all, Jimmy taught me to appreciate life for the simple things. Biscuits and gravy on Tuesday mornings. A Cornhuskers game on TV. A drive around to look at the scenery. Ice cream and cake served at a party and of course, a good song.
I thank God for bringing Jimmy into my life, even if was for far too short a time. Vaya con Dios my friend. I know you’re whole and happy where you are, but I will miss your smile.