Stories from the Edge - Volunteer Now

Freda Lynch said her step mother had taken on a huge task when she married her father. "There is not many women wouldhave done what she did, she reared us well, she was the only mommy I knew or wanted to know,” she said.Freda's day was taken up between caring for her mother and looking after the home. She never seemed to notice the yearspassing. Her youth slipping into the black hole of the past. Everyone knows nothing ever escapes from a black hole. It wasa world that Freda never considered would end. It had always been and it will always be. In many ways it was a twilightexistence but Freda didn't mind. She was caring for her friend who also happened to be her mother.As Eileen's condition worsened, nurses would visit the home. Freda admired them for their professionalism. Somehowfeelings of lost youth and opportunity would bubble up from her subconscious. If only, if only. Eileen's illness got worse,increasingly making the burden almost intolerable. The medical authorities suggested regular stays in the hospital to allowFreda a break. She wasn't interested in her own welfare. She made regular trips to Meadowland wing of Musgrave, the areaof the hospital where the elderly are located. Freda found the attention given by doctors and staff was excellent.Then the inevitable happened. Her mother passed on. Freda was faced with a future with a limited past. It was crisis time.There was a gap in her life where her motherhad been.What was she to do? How could she“she certainly lifts myday when she bouncesinto the office or ringsme on the phone”cope? The 25 years caring had meant no sociallife. Her circle of friends was limited. She madeexcuses, "I was never one for going out or thatsort of thing.” What she hadn't noticed wasthat her image of herself had also suffered.Low self esteem and depression made herperiod of mourning for her mother anightmare. The worst was when she returnedto an empty house. The open door to hermother's bedroom beckoned to an emptyplace in both the house and her heart. In thequiet of the night a distant dog bark or thewail of a military vehicle brought her rushing into her mother's room. The slatted light from the street lamps beyond thevenetian blinds fell on dark spaces illuminating the bed as empty as the shadows. It wasn't a dream. Freda returned to herbed, back to a troubled sleep.Everyone must mourn. It is the human way of coming to terms with lost mothers and fathers and friends. The heartachefinally subsides, only fond memories are left. Freda did not give herself a chance. Instead of directing her grief she nowadmits she was tormented by guilt. "If only I had done more,” she cried. She was becoming ill with loneliness. Somethinghad to be done. Perhaps it was a sign of Freda's untapped potential. She went looking for help and found it.Half way through 2000 Freda was finally overcoming her loss when she returned to Meadowlands wing as a volunteer. Aquiet and unassuming person Freda waited for her orders. More importantly she was now doing what she wanted to do