"Do we have the right date? What if we have the wrong date?" I asked anxiously as we pulled in front of the drive at the hospice. "I'm sure I got it right in the diary, but what if I didn't?" My anxiety was talking now.
"Well, I'm sure they won't turn us away if we got the date wrong, " Leon reassured me. It was the first time we'd returned to Jigsaw Children's Hospice since Titus died. They invited our family to a special Memory Day to remember loved ones who are no longer here. I was nervous about returning to hospice, the last place we'd seen our son. We thought it would be good to attend the Memory Day at the start of Titus's birthday week.
We walked in, uncertain about what to expect. Some hospice staff members welcomed us, and they knew we were Titus's family even though we didn't know who they were. Leon and I had cups of tea, and the children quickly discovered the biscuit (cookie) table. We chatted with staff about how we've been since January. We released balloons into the sky in memory of Titus. We heard all the names of children who were gone too soon.
We had one of our most meaningful conversations with the hospice chaplain. She was with Titus in his final minutes on earth. She told us about how she appreciated us allowing her to visit Titus. Then she told us something that blew me away. Titus had a huge impact on her and the rest of the staff at Jigsaw. Hearing that brought tears to my eyes. Titus was at the hospice for less than 24 hours, and he had an impact on everyone there.
Later in the week, Leon and I got to thinking--if Titus had that much of an impact at the hospice in less than 24 hours, what kind of an impact did he have at the hospitals he visited?