In November of 1998, my mother died at a residential hospice. It was, in comparison to others I have only heard about, a ‘good’ death experience. The care that she received at the hospice not only enabled her to feel secure and comfortable given her circumstances, but also made it possible for our family to get the most out of those last few weeks. We were able to focus on visiting with my mother rather than on worrying about her care. The experience was so strong that it motivated me to help establish a hospice in the city where I live.

With the help of the Rotary Clubs, our mayor, generous donors, a dedicated board and countless people in our community, the dream became a reality and we have just celebrated our third anniversary. The power of volunteerism shines not only in the warmth and beauty of the home that we have built, but also in the faces of the residents and their families.

Although the examples set by my parents and older siblings instilled in me a predisposition toward volunteering when I was young, it was my recent work with the hospice that taught me just how rewarding volunteering can be. I am often thanked by acquaintances and strangers who have had someone close to them live at the hospice, for my part in getting it started. I find this ironic sometimes though because there are many days now where I can not help to feel it is I who should be thankful, thankful for the opportunity to be a part of such a wonderful project and the path that it has lead me on.

Tonight was the annual meeting for the hospice and with it, the end of my role as a board member. Four years as chair and three following are all that our bylaws allow so it is time to move on to something new.

The fork in the road continues…