STELLA

In spite of a severe stroke that left him barely able to speak and unable to swallow, Dr. Bill, as we fondly called him, kept on singing. When I first met him, before he had the stroke, he was always smiling, singing, and joining in the activities at the retirement home where he lived. During one of the art sessions I led there, he also started to recite poetry, the verses of “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer: “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.”* One day, shortly after his poetry recitation, I saw that he was no longer at his usual place at the retirement home, and I learned of his stroke. When I came to the hospital, it was a troubling sight: tubes everywhere, Dr. Bill sunken into the bed drained of color and life. But what struck me most were the sounds coming from his mouth. He was still trying to sing. Though most of his faculties had been stripped from him, music, his gift of life, remained.

Later, after he had settled into a new retirement home, I got to know his family, and we talked about how much he loved music and art when he was well. His daughter assured me that they would continue to involve him in both even though it would be much more difficult. His family continued to sing with him, even when the speech therapist had given up. And when painting on paper proved unsuccessful, his daughter bought face paints, and her face became his canvas. In these small gestures was so much meaning. They represented the love that transcends debility. They showed the power of voice and touch to forge connections, even at end of life. And they highlighted the role of creativity in illuminating those connections for all involved.

Dr. Bill passed away on August 30, 2014. His song will ever be with me.

–LC, 2017

*For more, see Shared Doings and Sayings.