Work. Again.

Lifting? Nah, that's easy. The smells? You get used to them. But favorite residents dying? Hard. Really hard. Harder than anything else in this job. It's been over a month since one of my favorite residents passed away, and I still think about him all the time and miss him. There is a reason they tell you never to get attached. But honestly, you can't help but love them. 

A couple weeks ago my English teacher gave us an assignment to write anything. There was no topic, no specific format, we just had to write something. After trying to figure out what to write about for days, my brain had an idea. At midnight. Naturally, I stayed awake to write it out. It was difficult to write, but necessary. I wrote a poem about his death, and if you want to know that I actually do have feelings, you might want to read it. I'm no poet though, so be warned. And I wrote this really late at night. 

A CNA’s Love

The hardest part of working with the old, sick, and dying

is knowing they will pass on.

I never knew I could get so attached

to someone 60 years older than me.

I didn’t realize you would be gone in an instant

or how strange your empty bed would seem.

I loved the way you called me kiddo

when passing me in the halls.

I miss the way you called me your bunny

when telling your aid who I was.

I remember the way we laughed and teased

one another while I helped you get up.

I wish I had a chance to braid your mustache

the way you joked that I should.

I will never forget the care that I gave you

or the way you liked your coffee.

There’s a special place in my heart for all of my patients

but you, my friend, left a hole with your death.

That hole may be mended but never complete

each memory a stitch filled with love and care.

My heart has become a patchwork of people

and you will always be one of my favorite patterns.