Today was my last day working as a Pastoral Care Practitioner at Providence Aged Care Facility. Although I chose to leave due to a workplace culture I could not thrive in, I still want to acknowledge the joy I experienced in the role and the impact of the residents on me. 

I was privileged to be with people in their last moments, support families and other residents in their grief and pray for and with people at the end of their lives. They were sacred liminal moments that will forever be special to me even if I never work in aged care again.

Other things that brought me joy were planning church services and reflection sessions where I was able to use my teaching skills as well as love of things looking just right. 

I loved the time I spent one on one with residents – sometimes having the same conversations over and over because of dementia, and sometimes having deeply profound discussions about life’s meaning, and every kind of conversation between! 

I was surprised at how much I loved being in the Memory Support Unit where the people with the most advanced cases of dementia, live. They moved me in so many ways: K the German man who would hold my hand and kiss it; M who loved to sing ‘A bicycle made for two’; A who was an ex Marian student and loved to watch the cars and people arriving, commenting on what they were doing; J who believed the MSU was her home and would ask me to get all those others to leave; and D, an old engineer who was constantly on the move, walking endlessly and stopping only to eat or ‘fix’ things (break them in the process!) and to enjoy me running my hands through his hair. 

One of my my fav residents was K, author and poet who kept every condiment and spice known to humans in his room and who philosophized with me and gave me reading recommendations. He would often leave poetry on my desk, as well as other things to read. 

He wrote this in reply to an email I sent to let him know I was moving on, in case he was wondering why I hadn’t visited:

“Keep in touch! That’s “life” in Providence. One makes friends and then they move on. I had missed you and wondered.”

“Life” in Providence. One makes friends and then they move on: to other jobs, the MSU, and to the afterlife. How hard it must be for older people to lose friends so constantly. 

Overall, I learned a lot about what people are capable of and who they can be and what they need, as well as about my own capacities and resilience. 

I dropped my keys off last night. It felt final and I felt good about my decision. I didn’t see anyone or speak to anyone and that’s how wanted it to be. As I drove away, I looked through the window of the MSU and caught a glimpse of D, head down walking aimlessly as usual and that’s when I shed a tear – for him, for the lives older people lead at the end, and for what might have been a wonderful career for me to see out my working years, if it had been a place of support and encouragement. 

For now I will rest in the familiar world of teaching and do CRT work while I realign with what sustains me, trusting that this too is a liminal space, not an ending, but a threshold where I stand waiting to see what opens next.