Bearing with Grief

by Peter Gathje

The morning (August 4) was heavy with heat, humidity, and the grief of this past week.
“It’s worse in the summer than in the winter,” a guest said. Memphis in early August is oppressive. The clothing of the men who came to shower was so soiled that most of it had to be thrown away. No amount of washing would take away the stains and stench from the sweat and grime of life on the streets.
“I’m not doing well,” a guest said with sadness. “These days are hard.”
A few of us talked in the backyard. We were trying to figure out where a guest might be who had been in the hospital.
“He’s not in jail,” I said, “I checked.”
“They must have moved him to a long term care home.”
“What was wrong with him?”
“Something about his heart. And he had a lot of shortness of breath.”
Then we moved on to a guest who had seizures and fell a few days ago cracking open his head.
“He just keeled over. He dropped off some steps he was sitting on. One minute he was talking and the next he was just lying there.”
“He’s at the Med. He’s not doing well. Kathleen and I went up to see him.”
The mood was somber. The news of these two guests weighed heavily.
Two volunteers shared in the grief of a young man lost to suicide. They had known him through years of relationship with his family and through church and school. His funeral had been on Monday.
I also learned earlier in the week that Motella, a woman who had been on the streets for many years and then was taken in by June Averyt, had died a few weeks back. Her death had come suddenly after a brief illness. Maybe Motella needed to join June in her heavenly home, since June had died at the end of April.
Another volunteer had her own grief to bear. Her son’s funeral was Tuesday (August 9). Still she was here on this Thursday morning, serving in her sorrow.
And in her serving, perhaps there was an opening, a way to bear the grief of this week, by receiving the gifts that come in the midst of this fragile community of hospitality.