volunteerplaintalk

Tag: bereaved person

  • …Oh! One More Thing! I Need that Magic!

    memory bearLast week I just happened to be present when a brand new volunteer, Glenna was returning a memory bear she had made. Glenna has been volunteering for about six months now and is doing so because she is unemployed, looking very hard for another job and almost desperately wants to give back. Glenna is quiet, pounded by rejections and extremely talented.

    Memory bears, you probably know, are teddy bears sewn from articles of clothing a bereaved person chooses to represent the loved one who died. Bears are fashioned from bowling shirts, uniforms, blouses, event T-shirts, night-clothes and even baby blankets. They are soulful, oozing personality and cherished by the recipient.

    Glenna dropped off her freshly done bear and as I admired the pocket she had incorporated from the “Gilly’s Tavern” t-shirt on it, we chatted about the bear she had brought in the week before.

    It was a bear from an obviously well-worn  Bait Shop t-shirt. Glenna was telling me how her own father had loved to take her fishing when she was a little girl. He had died when she was only 15 and she wistfully talked about the time she caught a fish and dragged it up onto shore, her father laughing all the while. Glenna wiped a tear, apologizing for “taking up so much time” when the bereavement counselor, Sharon, walked in.

    I introduced Glenna to Sharon and Sharon thanked Glenna for making the memory bears. “Our clients just love them,” Sharon said and Glenna nodded.

    I could tell that Sharon was in a hurry, which was nothing new for a bereavement counselor. But bereavement counselors, I’ve found, have this aura about them that feels so, well…. kind.

    “Sharon,” I said, “before you have to run, Glenna is the volunteer that made the bear you just gave out, the fishing t-shirt bear.”

    “Really?” Sharon’s eyes lighted up. “I gave that bear to his granddaughter and I saw her last night in group and she told us this story. She took her bear home and that night brought it in bed with her. See, her grandfather was the one who raised her after her parents divorced. He loved to go fishing, and although she wasn’t very good or interested in fishing, she would go and watch him and read. Anyway, she had the bear with her and she had a dream. In that dream she and her grandfather were fishing by a big lake and she caught a fish and her grandfather turned to her in the dream and said,’ now see, I knew you could do it’. It was something her grandfather always said to her.”

    I could see Glenna’s eyes go wide and her mouth trembled, “that’s something my father always said to me.” She was crying now. (ok, me too). Sharon beamed.

    We can tell volunteers how meaningful their work is, but when their ears fill with real stories and examples, now that’s beyond volunteer management. It’s the magic of our job, the moment that we know exists, but we, as managers, well, we know to go looking for it and to stand back and let it happen.

    What do our volunteers need? Ahhhhh, many, many things. Sometimes recognition, sometimes socialization, sometimes to be left alone, and sometimes, they need a magic moment. Frankly, we need it too.

    -Meridian

  • I’m Keeping This For Myself

    At my hospice, we have a group of seamstresses that make teddy bears for bereaved people. The bereaved person brings in an article of clothing from their loved one who has died and the ladies make that shirt or robe into a bear. The bears have beautiful eyes that look soulfully at you and their bodies bring life to a favorite polo shirt or t-shirt from that trip to Cancun. I’ve been privileged to witness tearful people gasp as they receive their bears, some with the polo shirt logos on the breast, some with details sewn into paws or on collars.

    Just recently, we agreed to do several bears for a very young woman who tragically lost her husband. She gave explicit directions as to how she wanted her bears made and we gave them to a very accomplished seamstress. The bears, however came back made incorrectly because the volunteer misread the directions. I spoke with this young woman who tearfully said that it was all right, she would take the bears anyway. I told her no, we wanted to make good on what she requested but that I was so sorry, it would take a bit longer. She told me “that’s ok, it doesn’t really matter.”

    I’m guessing you, like me, when hearing the words, “it doesn’t matter” realize instinctively that it matters very much. In those words you hear frustration, weariness and deep, deep pain. At that moment, if I had to learn to sew, we were going to make good on those bears.

    I talked to her many times since. Each time, I called her and updated her on the progress of the bears. It was hard to find someone who could undo what was done and then do it correctly. After all, the shirts that were given to us could not be replaced, so everything had to be taken apart and redone to her original request.

    Every time I talked to her to give her updates, she would hold her sorrow in and then start to cry as we discussed the shirts from her husband. I wanted to keep her updated at every step, because frankly, she had been through enough already and did not need additional heartache.

    It took two months to find the right seamstress from those who looked the project over, get the work done and get the bears back to me. But we did it, thanks to a very patient. understanding volunteer. I made the call that the bears were finished, leaving a message on her machine that the bears would be at one of our offices for her to pick up.

    The next day, I retrieved my voice mail messages and came upon one from this young woman. She had gone to the office and picked up her bears. Her message was long and full of tears as she expressed her joy and gratitude at receiving her beautiful bears. She cried unabashedly on the message, telling me that no words could express her joy at having these bears and that the volunteers who made them were angels. I could hear the relief mixed with happiness mixed with the sorrow of years ahead coping with this tragedy.

    I know from the emotions expressed that this young woman will never forget the kindness of our volunteers. I can share this message with these selfless seamstresses so that they can hear firsthand the impact of their volunteering.

    But you know what? I’m keeping this message for myself too. When days are long and it seems as though nothing is going right, I’m going to play that message for my soul. And after hearing her raw gratitude, I’m going to keep going.

    -Meridian