Bringing a Little Light into their Lives

The other day, a friend of mine asked me about my hospice volunteer work. She surprised me with a question I don’t remember ever being asked: “Why do you do it?” Now, I have had people comment on my work, saying things like, “I could never do that,” or “Good for you.” Sometimes I just watch them raise their eyebrows at me, like I’m engaged in some bizarre vocation. I have suggested that I do feel called to do it, but that’s about as far as my explanation has gone. I promised my friend that I would look into her question more deeply, and that’s what I’m doing with you, right here.

But I have no idea what I will write.

I do have to begin somewhere, though. What does it mean to have a calling? For me, it’s feeling drawn to act, to do something helpful or productive or caring. I could say that the professional work I’ve done, whether it’s writing or teaching, has an aspect of caring to it. The fact that I’ve worked with hospice, whether I’ve sat with patients and caregivers, or made calls to check on the bereaved for a total of over 30 years, says something.

When I was recovering from chemo treatment, my doctor suggested I try to stay away from situations where my immune system would be challenged. He had no idea how long I should do that. I told my hospice supervisor, and she came up with a brilliant idea: if I only talked to the bereaved by telephone, I wouldn’t be at risk.

As soon as she sent me the bereaved list for the past month, I started right away to make calls. I have fallen into a pattern of conversation, not because I do it mindlessly, but because I realize that the first few moments of our conversation will set the tone. I want the bereaved to know that I’m warm, friendly but concerned. So, here’s what I usually say at the beginning:

“Hi, I’m Susan Quinn, and I’m a volunteer with Cornerstone Hospice. Am I speaking to (bereaved name)? I understand that your (husband, wife, or whomever) passed away recently, and we like to check in with the (person) to see how they are doing, by asking a handful of questions. Would that be okay with you?”

This introduction is so important. I introduce myself first, to establish a simple rapport. I know about their loss, I won’t take much time, and I ask permission. All those elements are very important.

So, when I look into the call experience, I realize many people, understandably, are skeptical. After all, who am I? Why am I the one who is calling? How vulnerable and open should the person be with me? Those are all reasonable concerns, and as I ask my questions, I validate any response they give me. The hardest response to digest is when I ask who they have to provide them with emotional support. Usually it’s their children, their siblings, friends, their church and co-workers. Every now and then, the person will say, “No one.” I can’t help myself—I ask, did you say no one? When the person confirms what they said, I simply say, that must be hard, and move on. But it does touch my heart.

Sometimes the person will have a question for hospice or an unresolved concern, which I usually can’t answer, but I assure them I will let my supervisor know that day, and that someone will be in touch with them. They have enough to deal with without feeling abandoned.

Okay, I’ve tiptoed around the topic—why do I do it?... It’s time to focus. I think it feels like such an honor and blessing to let a person know that we are thinking of him or her, that we want to know if they have difficulties beyond their grief, that we want to assure them that their grieving is normal, even when it’s painful. And we genuinely want to help. Finally, I ask the person at the end of our conversation if it would be helpful to them to speak to a bereavement counselor. I’m surprised, even though the person has been asked previously, how often they say yes. (I realize they may not have originally heard the invitation, or are now ready to share with a professional.)

The best part of the conversation is when a person says, with genuine warmth, thanks so much for calling. I’ve brought a little light into their lives. Sometimes we even laugh together, at other times I assure them that when they cry with me, it’s okay. In many ways a person who is grieving feels alone and lonely, so I’ve offered a human connection with no strings attached.

My calling has become a true blessing--for both of us.