Sylvia Cohen

Sylvia is one of my inspirations. I have worked more than thirty years in nursing and Syliva stands in my heart and mind with a few others as the 'reason I stay in skilled nursing'.
The day I met her until the day she left us for a deservedly better place, she always demonstrated grace and kindness. She could barely see and hardly hear at all, yet she was an outgoing social person. To my mind, this was the worse kind of hell: a people person who could no longer relate well to people. She could not read nor listen to music. I frequenly asked her how she was managing, what did she do all day. She would look at me with those big wisdom filled eyes and in a voice devoid of judgment say: "Well, what else can I do but what I can do?
Her memory was such that each time we spoke she was happy to meet me. She always said great things about Chaparral House once she realized that she was talking to the 'manager' and was always quick to say" I am not saying this just because you are the manager."
Sylvia to me defines bravery. Her senses and memory failed her, yet her faith in people and life never left her down and sustained her far beyond what I expected was possible. Her inner life carried her when her body and once formidable mind, became victims of time and disease.
Sylvia always wore lipstick and a particular perfume. The scent she told me was once given to her by her husband, when she was very young. She liked it too well to ever change or try something else. Like the suit she wore, the perfume was her 'signature'. The suit, skirt, jacket and silkie blouse with one of those tie thingies woman in business adopted. I once dared to suggest that she try wearing something else, perhaps something more comfortable. "Why?" she responded. That one word answered all my questions. Comfort was comfort. Sylvia was totally comfortable as she was. What didn't I understand?
Sylvia was the ultimate hostess. She always offered candy and apologized for not having 'a little something to eat' when I visited her in her 'apartment'.
Sylvia asked everyone about their family, sometimes several times in the same conversation since her memory and her hearing made 'normal' conversation impossible. Family was always the first subject of converstation. She talked to me several times about my decision not to have children, always ending up with sage advice: "Well it is too late now, but I am sure you understand how important children are and would have been too you." There is no argument with that logic.
Sylvia inspires me. Her bravery sets high standards for my own behavior as a Future Old Lady who hopes to have a smidgen of her graciousness and class.
My heart grieves with her family with whom she was so close.
KJ Page Administrator Chaparral House