Life Isn't Over at Retirement

What to do after retirement?  I had worked until I was seventy at two separate jobs but still had some energy left, so what to do?  

During my husband’s last illness, Senior Citizens had offered companionship for him while I ran errands (or just escaped for a while).  After he was gone, the SC Director came to my door.  It was time for payback.

“With your experience as a caregiver, I know you would make a wonderful Peer Counselor.  Please help us.”  They had been so helpful, I readily agreed to take the training. 

I joined others for weekly training sessions, listening and sharing with each other.  Then we each were sent out to visit with those who had asked for Senior Citizens’ help, just as I had.

One of my favorites clients was a lady in north Nashville whose husband had just died. Her only son lived in Detroit and was very concerned that she not become depressed and lonely.  Once a week, I drove to her small, comfortable home, opened the swinging gate and was greeted with warmth and graciousness.  I listened to her story of grief and loneliness, but soon we were laughing together about the good times.  Her son came home, and she and I parted as such good friends.  A few years later, I attended her funeral. 

There was a lady in Madison who had reported her son to the police.  He had become violent, and she was afraid of him.   He, of course, was infuriated and left for parts unknown.  Her guilt ran so deep, that she called out for help.  I sat there, week after week, and listened to her.  She finally said “Please, you have to come so far across town.  You should quit coming.”  I told her I would when she quit crying.

My most suspicious case was with a lady who lived with her son in a small run-down house not far from town on a country road.    Whenever I visited her, she was either in bed with the sheet drawn up to her chin, or in a chair, same situation.  I finally became suspicious after a few visits.  She told me her son sometimes woke her in the middle of the night for no reason.  at the weekly meeting of the SC team, I reported my fears.  Our mentor took my opinion seriously and scheduled a visit from their staff.  I returned a few more times, and the son seemed very subdued.

The saddest case I visited during those months was a woman living in low-income housing.  She seemed desperate to find a way to earn money.  He health was not good and my visits didn’t seem to relieve her worry.  During our group meeting, we decided the best option for her was to have meals and the necessities of life, her need for money more an obsession!.

Perhaps my most frightening visits were with a kind Black woman.  Every night she traveled across town for a night shift job in a nursing home.  Her son lived with her and may have been the reason for her to need employment!  He was always there, walking back and forth through the room where we were visiting.  It was almost as though he needed to spy on us.  During our last visit, the lady whispered to me that I shouldn’t come back.  She had found a gun in the garage that had to be her son’s.  I took her advice!

It must have been my newest client several miles across town that proved to be my last with Peer Counseling. I left home early in order to arrive by 9 that morning.  Just as I left the interstate, it began to snow; then snowing harder.  I decided the better part of valor was to turn down a street that led back to my part of town. I canceled my visit.  It was a four-lane street, so it should have taken only a half hour or so.  But was not to be!  Still miles from home, the traffic came to a complete stop, bumper to bumper.  The snow was blinding and piling up on the roadway.  No snow plows could get through, of course.  After sitting there for at least four hours, the traffic gradually began moving slowly forward.  Much closer to home, it stopped again!  This time the driver at the front of the line froze, too afraid to drive down the steep hill.  I turned into an intersection that I knew could get me to my street.  After a few more detours, I finally arrived at home.  It was four o’clock and the phone was ringing.  

My daughter asked, “Mom, are you OK?”  “Sure, Honey, thanks for calling.” I felt I had done enough payback!

by Rita Hood