The First One is Always The Hardest
Welcome to My World Series
Thirty residents sat in the "big room," in various positions. Some slumped in their seat as if tired, most sitting upright, some in wheelchairs, and a few sound asleep. Other than those few, all were attentive and looked straight ahead expectantly. Volunteers and support workers were seated among them, all smiling and talking gently.
The vaguest smells of perfume and hair sprays, mingled with coffee and fresh baking filled the immaculately kept large room. This was the favoured weekly event - music. The quiet halls came alive every Friday afternoon when there was a live band to entertain. Almost all the residents attended. Many dressed up for the occasion. Big band sounds, jazz, or 1970's or country music, whether a band or a duo playing, it always brought smiles to the people there.
I sat next to a lady with her hair carefully done in curls, in a light sweater and blouse. Excitedly she chatted away about her day, her home, and her plans for the weekend. Not skipping a beat she was friendly and forthright. There was a fragility about her and I was filled with compassion as I listened to this little lady talk.
Then all of a sudden she blurted out in a whisper to me, "There's a lot of dark ones in here don't you see?" I knew instantly she was talking about spirits and I looked at her bemused. I'm a spiritualist so I knew what she meant, though I didn't see any ghosts among them I am sure there probably were some visiting. I hesitated, "do you think so?" This is a topic one does not discuss with residents or clients. "Oh yes," she replied matter of factly, "and I don't like them." In no way did she mean the physical features of anyone. Whether she was a Medium or not, who knows? She may have been. In her day, her generation was conditioned not to be too open about that. We also can't judge anyone around us for facts of life that we don't know about. It's possible anyone in a nursing home could be spiritually dark for whatever reason. So, I found it interesting that she said that.
The music started to play and we re-directed our attention to that instead. She smiled, occasionally clapped her hands and sometimes swayed to the sound. At the end of the performance, I wheeled her back to her room for a break before dinner. As we went into her room she said, "Get those things out of here." Again, I didn't see what she meant. I looked around and then turned on the television for her and talked to her for a few minutes, she seemed ok then I left. Since it was a social and I wasn't working one-to-one with her I hadn't read her data to know if she had a specific cognitive decline, dementia or anything like that.
I wondered about her during the evening though. As people age into their senior years, do people become psychic? Not likely. Does the veil between the two worlds, that of the living and that of the spirit world become thinner? Possibly. Do people become more spiritually aware with age or was it a gift she always had? Since I don't read people without their asking first, whether spiritually or by consultation, I didn't know what was going on with her.
The next day started as usual, with a morning meeting. The staff would gather for updates before we started the day. Some mornings they would tell us who had passed away in the night. The little lady had died.
I was struck by hearing this and tears filled my eyes for a moment. I quickly refocused on my work but I thought about her throughout the day. At the end of the day, I mentioned to the coordinator how much the resident had enjoyed the afternoon the day before and seemed so healthy. With great sympathy and caring she said, "I know, it often happens like that. The first one is always the hardest." I gulped, nodded, and walked home while saying a little prayer for her.
*
Years ago, I went back to school as a mature student to study Therapeutic Recreation to become a Rec Therapist. It was an intensive, work-heavy post-graduate program that also had a clinical internship over the summer from May through August.
Originally I wanted to work in a hospital with children who had terminal illnesses but the Therapeutic Recreation Department at the local hospital closed due to funding cuts, in the second semester. The second option was a long-term care facility, also known as a Nursing Home (I had already worked for three years before that as a Special Needs Counselor and later in career counselling so I thought this would broaden my experience).
We facilitated and created activities aimed at therapeutically sustaining or rebuilding functions (from cognitive, and emotional to physical) for the residents. An enthusiastic and studious group of workers that included two interns, myself included, two co-op students, two other summer students and a French exchange student, we had a full support team. It was a fantastic summer of learning. So, not mentioning any details, I reflect a little.
Life gives us experiences that stand out for whatever reason. Those are the ones that we learn from. Even the briefest encounters can later mean more.
*
Welcome To My World is a series of writing that is not about my personal life but reflecting on the world in vignettes. It is meant to touch on the human, society, occasionally semi-biographical, and the spiritual through stories or essays. It's my third series. The first one is Interviews of Creators, called Artists and Spiritualists Move the World, aimed at displaying my philosophy that art and the spiritual are connected. The second one, Little Miss Smarty Pants opinion pieces, some, research-based. All the series are published randomly.
Spiritual Steps - Artists and Spiritualists Move the World
About the Creator
Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle
Vocal Top Story 13 times + Awesome Story 2X. Author of Award Winning Novel Small Tales and Visits to Heaven XI Edition + books of poems, etc. Also in lit journal, anthology, magazine + award winning entries.
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More stories from Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle and writers in Humans and other communities.
Autumnal Twist in Time
Autumn twists and turns with each forward movement in the changing of the year. Happy new year everybody, and I'll say the same thing on the first day of winter, wherever I may be. Regarding each new season with the same enthusiasm as a new year makes it bright and beautiful. We can carry smaller packages of our life's plans farther by looking at it that way, instead of the scope of a vast landscape of a full year. May the leaves bring good tidings.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelleabout a year ago in Humans
Hind Rajab: A Child the World Heard Too Late
Cinema has always been a powerful medium for telling stories that history books often reduce to numbers. When a film chooses to focus on a single child caught in the machinery of war, it forces audiences to confront reality not as statistics, but as human loss. The movie inspired by the tragic story of Hind Rajab, a young Palestinian girl, does exactly that. It is not merely a film; it is a testimony, a memorial, and a question posed to the conscience of the world. Hind Rajab’s name became known globally after reports emerged of her final hours during the Gaza conflict. She was a child trapped in circumstances no child should ever experience. The film based on her story does not sensationalize her death, nor does it turn her suffering into spectacle. Instead, it approaches her story with restraint, dignity, and an unwavering focus on innocence lost amid violence. The Story at the Heart of the Film The movie centers on a young Palestinian girl who becomes separated from safety during intense military escalation. Through her eyes, viewers witness fear, confusion, and the fragile hope that someone, somewhere, will come to help. The film follows her final journey—both physical and emotional—using minimal dialogue and powerful visual storytelling. Rather than relying on graphic imagery, the filmmakers choose silence, pauses, and close-up shots to convey terror and vulnerability. This artistic choice makes the film even more haunting. The audience is left to sit with the child’s fear, her calls for help, and the unbearable waiting that defines her final moments. By focusing on Hind as an individual rather than a symbol, the film restores her humanity. She is not portrayed as a political tool, but as a daughter, a child with dreams, and a life that mattered. A Child as the Center of a Global Tragedy What makes this movie particularly impactful is its refusal to shift focus away from the civilian cost of war. The story does not revolve around soldiers, strategies, or power struggles. It revolves around a child who should have been worried about school, friends, and play—not survival. This narrative choice challenges the audience to rethink how conflicts are discussed in media and politics. Wars are often framed in terms of borders, ideologies, and victory. This film asks a different question: What is the price paid by those who have no role in choosing the war? By centering the story on Hind, the film exposes the imbalance of power and the devastating consequences faced by the most vulnerable. Artistic Direction and Emotional Weight The film’s direction is deliberately restrained. There is no dramatic background score overpowering the scenes. Instead, ambient sounds—distant explosions, static-filled phone calls, the quiet breathing of a frightened child—carry the emotional weight. This realism makes the film deeply unsettling. The young actress portraying Hind delivers a performance that is heartbreakingly authentic. Her expressions alone communicate fear, confusion, and bravery far beyond her years. The filmmakers avoid overacting or melodrama, allowing the story’s truth to speak for itself. Cinematography plays a crucial role as well. Tight frames and limited perspectives reinforce the feeling of entrapment, while long, unbroken shots force viewers to experience time as Hind did—slow, uncertain, and terrifying. A Political Film Without Political Speeches One of the film’s greatest strengths is that it does not rely on speeches or overt political messaging. Its power lies in its simplicity. By telling one child’s story honestly, it exposes the broader reality of civilian suffering in conflict zones. The film does not tell audiences what to think. Instead, it asks them to feel—and that is far more powerful. Viewers are left to grapple with difficult questions about responsibility, accountability, and the value of human life. This approach has made the movie resonate across cultures and ideologies. Even those unfamiliar with the details of the Palestinian struggle can connect with the universal themes of childhood, fear, and loss. Reception and Global Impact Since its release, the film has sparked intense discussion on social media, in film circles, and among human rights advocates. Many viewers describe it as one of the most emotionally challenging films they have ever watched. Critics have praised its ethical storytelling and refusal to exploit tragedy. For many, the movie serves as an entry point into understanding the human cost of the Gaza conflict. It has been screened at independent film festivals and community events, often followed by discussions about civilian protection and children in war zones. Most importantly, the film ensures that Hind Rajab’s name is not forgotten. In a world where news cycles move quickly, cinema has given her story permanence. Why This Film Matters This movie matters because it stands against normalization of suffering. It reminds us that behind every headline about war are real people, real families, and real children whose lives are forever altered—or ended. By immortalizing Hind Rajab’s story, the film becomes an act of resistance against silence. It insists that her life had meaning and that her death deserves acknowledgment, reflection, and accountability. In the end, this is not just a film about one Palestinian girl. It is a film about every child trapped in conflict, every unanswered call for help, and every moment when humanity fails its youngest members. Cinema cannot undo tragedy, but it can refuse to let it be ignored. And in doing so, this film ensures that Hind Rajab’s story continues to speak—long after the screen fades to black.
By Hasbanullah3 days ago in Humans
Comments (2)
That was very interesting. Perhaps she know her time was close. Well done.
So glad you linked to these, Lisa! I will definitely be reading soon!