What have I done?

Written in reponse to this question posed on a bulletin board I frequent:

I sat up and held my father's hand all night before he died, so my exhausted mother and sister could sleep. I was afraid. But I was alert enough to wake everybody else up so we could hold him as he left us.

I comforted my mother in her senility. I cooked for her and set her meals upon the table. I got excellent help for her, and together we helped her continue to live her life as she wanted it. I fought doctors for her health. Then I protected her from the doctors and helped her die. I wiped her ass, cleaned up her accidents without complaining. Then I held her hand and calmed her as she panicked right before she left us. And now it seems I'm my family's glue, even as unglued as I am.

I cleaned up my girlfriend's kitchen when she was grieving a miscarriage. Then I waited on her during her labor when she gave birth a few years later. I have nursed my aged aunt through a couple of devastating illnesses and heart attacks, by doing little things for her and keeping her company.

In my last job, I sat with countless people who had just been diagnosed with cancer and listened to their stories and their fear. I did the same while some of them succumbed to the devastating disease. I attended their funerals and met their children or their parents or their spouses and acknowledged their grief. And I wasn't afraid then.

When I can, I treat friends to getaways when they're in need of an emotional break. When I have extra money, I send it to my friends who don't. I planted my sister-in-law's garden this spring, as she was too weak from chemotherapy.

I offer my ear and my listening to friends who need to be heard, and my comfort and sincere presence to those who need some love.

I'll never do anything that will make me famous, and that's okay. But I show up.