I Love You, Honey

Bert was one of the first residents I cared for when I received my certification as a CNA. He was a really nice man - soft spoken, shy, a true gentleman. He was 100 years old when I first began caring for him, and he appreciated every little thing I did for him.

About once a week, while I was getting him up for the day, Bert would lean forward, kiss me shyly on the cheek, and whisper, "I love you, honey. I have from the first time I saw you." When I told my charge nurse about this, she leaned back, looked at me, and told me that I look very much like his wife had looked when she was younger. So, I didn't really think too much of the kisses. And when he told me he loved me, I would pat him on the shoulder and say, "I know, Bert."

Bert was with us until shortly before his one hundred second birthday. On his last day, I went into his room, where he was surrounded by his family, to get his vitals. I spoke to him, not knowing if he would hear me, and wished him a good morning. His eyes looked up at me, and he reached out to hold my hand, whispering those familiar words, "I love you, honey. I have from the first time I saw you." I replied as usual, and proceeded to check his vitals. When I had finished and retreated from the room, his son followed me from the room.

He wanted to know what the exchange had been all about. I explained it to him, including my charge nurse's thoughts. He did kind of a double take, and then pulled out his wallet to show me a picture of his mother. While the resemblance wasn't startling, there were many features we shared - short red hair, green eyes, freckles.

When I attended Bert's funeral a few days later, the son approached me and expressed his thanks for the good care I had given his dad.

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