Pastoral Relationship with People with Intellectual ... - Theses

242had in handing their children over to the care of this institution in pastgenerations, the understandable, yet unreasonable feelings of guilt and failure. Ireflect on the desire, expressed through regular visitation, to maintain a modicumof familial normality.Jim will die in the next few days. There will be a funeral attended by hisfamily and community friends, as well as those grieving staff who are logisticallyable to get to the funeral amidst institutional routines and responsibilities.Following this there will be a Remembrance Service for him back at theinstitution in the accommodation area where he last lived. Words of affection willbe shared, flowers offered and a good life will be celebrated. In the midst ofconducting these important rituals I too will celebrate, and grieve, as I havealready started to do. I love the guy. I will miss him.But as much as I talk publically at funerals about all the ways that thelikes of Jim have enriched the community life of this institution over the years,the reality is that, as with ‘invisible Alice,’ so with the more gregarious Jim, thisplace will methodically continue the business of being a disability institution. Itwon’t miss a beat. Following his death, his next of kin will be invited to comeand lay claim to Jim’s personal effects; his bedroom will be thoroughly clearedand cleaned, and a new person will move into Jim’s old room, perhaps within 10days. It’s an institutional routine that invites staff to suppress their grief for Jimand for others who live here by simply getting used to the new person occupyingJim’s old bed. But the grief will still be there. It’s called ‘unresolved grief’.Eventually I feel it is time to leave Jim’s bedside. He is resting peacefullyapparently unaware of my presence. Without expecting a response I rise and bidhim farewell. But as I begin to move away he stirs a little, reaches up to hold myhand, and quietly but clearly says, “Thanks mate.” I momentarily stare at Jimfrom the side of his bed as he settles back into restful repose. This needful, dyingman addresses me by name and offers me what I interpret as a blessing. I’m indisbelief.I am truly humbled. Here I am, a Uniting Church chaplain, a professionalcarer, there to care for him and yet, through his two simple words and touch, myprofessional status melts away. I stand there not as a chaplain but as a fellowhuman being and child of God.