‘GAR’ by cynthia hall
There she reclines hair billowy white, soft as snow flakes
as soon as I arrived and came in the door, I met with a worker and she was incredibly welcoming…I was quite emotional...
on this spring afternoon. The sun paints her face, with powder-pink hues. Wrinkles criss-cross Under cookie-brown eyes. Her mouth is lop-sided. Open. Twisted by a stroke. As my tears dampen her pillow. She turns towards me tries to speak to comfort me. Hours tick by, on the hospital clock Our family gathers round.
Mary, Catherine House resident
“I was dealing with my own personal kind of disappointments from the perspective of how on earth did I end up here. It was a bit confronting to process that.” Although unnerving, Mary soon realised that this was a safe space where she was fully accepted. “As soon as I arrived and came in the door, I met with a worker and she was incredibly welcoming…I was quite emotional because I was able to see that this was a safe space. The amount of effort they had gone to make me feel welcome was quite overwhelming.” “There was a handbag filled with personal items on the bed, those little touches really made a huge difference. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. I was somewhere safe, I was able to get a good night’s sleep, in a warm bed. I had a private room that was lockable, and able to have that privacy. All the staff were just so compassionate and gentle. I felt that I was going to be okay,” said Mary.
Mary views her connections with Catherine House staff and other residents as one of the most important factors in helping her get back on her feet. “I found it very inspirational to see women working in this field, passionate women, advocating for other women. The other women at CH were really good supports through a very challenging time.” “Having that mutual understanding is grounds for an ongoing mutual respect that you wouldn’t normally encounter.” The Women’s Centre at CH also provided Mary with stability and opportunities. “They purchased a ukulele for me. I went into the computer room and was able to access internet and printing. It helped me clean up loose ends. When I was told I could keep coming to the Women’s Centre forever, I thought, I will!”
We say our goodbyes, Tell her we love her. “Let’s pop a cheezle into that mouth,” jokes my Uncle. She clamps her mouth shut, shares our laughter. a warmth in our hands, when I speak of a singer she fancies somewhat. “sleep well Gar, he will be in your dreams tonight.” Our hands draw apart. Soon her hand grips mind. There’s a glint in her eyes,
With a final shiver She is gone from us My Gar, My previous grand-mother. © Cynthia Hill
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