The Story Behind the Story by Alan Anderson

I was honoured in early 2017 to have four of my stories published in the book “Good Grief People.” It was such a thrill to write this anthology on grief with Carolyn Wilker, Barbara Heagy, Ruth Smith Meyer, Glynis M. Belec and Donna Mann.

The story behind the story I will highlight here is “You Can Go Now, Sweetie.” In short it is a love story of a married couple over the years. The story was my way of saluting some special people in my life.

The special people I am referring to are those I call “my teachers.” I have mentioned them before on a post or two. Through my years of coming alongside people in situations of grief, serious illness and death and dying experiences, I came to love this area of work. It was one of the biggest honours of my life.

In my contribution to Good Grief People I wanted to pay homage to the people I met who trusted me with their experiences. Most were experiences of suffering that became part of their lives. Often times my teachers were people who experienced the death of their spouse.

In “You Can Go Now, Sweetie,” I capture some of the healthy emotional attachment long married couples have for each other. The couple in the story showed that love need not wane in one’s older years. It becomes stronger even in the face of terminal illness. This couple was not unique from my perception in regards to the strength of true love. Many couples I have ministered to or served had an abiding love for each other.

Not all of my teachers consisted of married couples. They were also people who never married or people who had been without a spouse for decades. My teachers were people who knew and lived with the pain of the death of a child. They were people suffering from a mental illness who heard voices in their heads that would not be quiet. My teachers were those who grieved the murder of a sibling due to hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I have come away with part of them all. I have their stories in my heart. As they have taught me I am humbled by the strength of human tenacity and the ability to move forward in life. They were not defined by their experience of suffering. They lived life with their physical or emotional scars intact yet determined now to live one day at a time.

Many of my teachers have died. There time came. If you, dear reader, have people you regard as your "teachers," I would suggest you love them while you can. Hold them close. Listen to their words. Cherish your memories with them for all too soon they pass from the scene.

I have reached a time where I am honoured some people consider me to be their "teacher." I never take this or these precious people for granted. We are in this life together and can help each other along the way.

My final day of work in healthcare was one I will always remember. The leadership team I worked with hosted a retirement gathering for me. A number of staff including my boss attended. Even more special was the fact they invited some of the residents of the care home. They were some of my teachers. When the gathering was almost over and I was getting ready to leave my teachers hugged me. I knew I had touched their lives and they had touched mine. I didn’t need anything else.

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