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a simple evening gown and tying my hair up, I left to join the others.

Everything was as perfect to be expected. The wedding ceremony was short and simple, vows written ourselves. At least three outbursts from vocal clients letting us know they couldn't hear in the back made the day. And the client that thought my handsome husband should have her on his arm will stay in my memory as long as I have it. As the reception began we helped feed the clients that needed help. There were more smiles that day than I had ever seen in all the months I worked there. Cake was enjoyed by all and those that could walk and were mobile even danced to the music we played from the 30's. Quite the dancers, some of those gents were in their time, I could tell. Those sitting you could see them singing along and moving their heads and feet to the songs. As evening fell they were all tired and ready tor bed, smiles on their faces, singing tunes, telling tales and teaching lessons even behind the disease.

I think we lived happily ever after, but just in case, I don't remember. I know we left that evening arm in arm, a contented feeling in our hearts that we gave something to the clients we had grown to love, a day they wished they could remember. And we were ever so happy to share a special time in our lives with those who spent a lifetime giving before their diseases stole their lives away.

Moral of the story: As we age and our bodies fail us, and we can no longer care for ourselves, please do not forget us. We are here; we think of you daily and would love you to share your lives with us. A phone call, a visit, or just a cup of tea. Let the wisdom of my silver hair shine down on your youthful smile.

Learn more about this author, Rachelle Benson.
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