This morning we left Hogar Paz Y Algeria. On the last night just before dinner, all the men, Sisters & some staff gathered & sang a TY song. They gave us a beautiful mate cup with the metal straw & a bag of mix. Many had tears in their eyes…as I did. Each gave Rog a hand shake & me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to say so much but was way too choked up. Rog usually can but he too couldn't. 18 days-29 men- 6 Sister & several staff now crowd my heart. Though I don't even know each of their names, I know their smile and feel their love. Sister Jane (NOT ME but MofC) assured me she would continue to set up an activity table & encourage the men to stay active. She told me it made her so happy to see us become one of them…no inhibitions inspire of the drilling, poor coordination & slow response…we connected. Though I could write pages about each one, I will try to safe just a few not already mentioned in my updates:
Beto: the longest resident, grumbled as he walk about but soft inside
Carlito: always willing to help nuns & other less able
Benjamin: suffered several strokes so very had no facial expression, tiny unsteady steps, only one hand yet very interested in tried so hard to do whatever we put in front of him
Herman; former boxer who loved talking with my translator & mourned his lack of contact with his brother
Lujan: former jockey who laughed that the others were doing useless stuff but then did them too. He loved proving he was the strongest
The careful colored: would wait till I offered to walk him to the table & then spent hours staying in the line using one color
The swollen feet man: could not make a decision & struggled which piece of the 4 piece puzzle was next
The one foot man who grinned & drooled constantly & always wanted to kiss my hand
The almost blind man who loved to just squeeze my hand
The man with the crutch who used it lots playing with the floating disc
The man I called Danny DeVito who always looked glum but loved to play with the Zip line
The oldest little old man at 81 who was willing to do anything
The young kid with jerky motions & no expression who tried hard to get a rhythm going for the Zipline & had such a short attention span
Nicoli- good looking young staff who joked with the men while picking them up & cleaning them
Truly volunteering is the best part of our travel. Rewarding. Meaningful. Priceless
Memories flood me but it's time to move on…
Here's Roger's thoughts on Zarate:
I recently heard a life coach talking about the choices we make and his advice was to make the most of the situation where you are right now. Then he said something that we all know and usually avoid saying. We will all soon be dead. True. The ball gets passed on and we become a memory for some. How will I be remembered? That is a question we all should consider.
The men at the home in Zarate have come there to die. The nuns work nonstop to care for them and provide them a clean place to live. They work with seldom a word of thanks from anyone. When I thanked a nun for mopping the floor she said the men deserve a clean place so they can die "like a human being". I will remember her for her service to others.
They also smile and laugh with the men, tease them, play music, sing, and hug them. They show them love. I will remember their love for those who are sometimes difficult to care for.
We have new appreciation for our lives after visiting with the dying men for three weeks. Many of the men were not as old as we are, but they have suffered severe health issues that prevent them from adequately providing for themselves. It is clear that they would soon die if not for the nuns. It is not hard for us to imagine ourselves in their position and we feel fortunate that we have so far been able to enjoy our lives by spending time with our families and friends, pursue travel experiences, and manage our home. Life is Good!
