Thoughts of Nikky

I find my thoughts turning to Nikky again and again. Having met her in the week after last year’s retreat, my thoughts about my experiences with her became intertwined with my thoughts about what I learned and experienced. I am sadly aware of how little I’ve seen of her in the past few months. The last two times I visited, she wouldn’t get up and leave her room, shaking her head no, no matter how hard I cajoled her. “I’m not feeling so good,” she would say. I know how dangerous it is for her to become bed ridden, half awake, half asleep, in the fuzzy haze of her memories. And yet, she was happy to see me, greeting me with a warm “oh hello,” the way you greet someone who clearly knows you, but who you can’t place. She is quick to “remember” me, when I remind her that I found her when she was lost. “Oh yeah, we were good friends, remember?” Her eyes look at me from a younger time, recalling that we went to school together, and I was her good friend, her “paysan,” who knows her from the old neighborhood.

On Christmas Eve last year, Mariel, Samy and I went to bring presents to Peggy, Richard and Nikky. Wilton has since passed; and Billy and Willy have moved to another home with more supervision. I wonder whether their romance is intact. Peggy, Richard, the girls and I sit in the center hall. They are pleased to open their gifts. Samy drapes the shawl we bought around Peggy’s shoulders, and she says she feels like a queen. I go in to see Nikky, who is lying in bed awake. She resists my efforts to bring her into the hall, but lets me prop her up in bed. Samy comes in to see her, and sings her a little holiday song, that makes Nicky smile. Mariel comes in too, and Nikky admires her, saying she is a beautiful girl, and Nikky can tell she’s a smart one too. We sing our songs together – “Let Me Call you Sweetheart,” and “You Are My Sunshine,” Nikky bobbing her head and searching for the key. Mariel goes to the hallway to get Nikky’s present, and when she comes back, Nikky asks “who is this beautiful girl.” I say she is my oldest daughter, and Nicky exclaims, “Oh, she’s a beautiful girl, and I can tell she’s a smart one too.” Samy looks at me, and wisely does not that Nicky had just met her and is saying the same thing. Instead, she gives Nicky a hug – and I am proud of my daughters, my angels, bringing these people joy, love, and a feeling that their lives matter.