Our first contact with new walkers is by phone. Try as one might, it is difficult not to have preconceived notions about the person one has just contacted; the reality is often quite different. In this instance, the man to whom I had spoken seemed enthusiastic about the idea of meeting new friends. In reality, his behavior could only be described as elusive.

This gentleman was careful to get directions to our meeting place despite the fact that the Bereavement Office had already sent him a map along with the invitation for the Walking Group Program. Much to my surprise, on the first Saturday, he did not meet us at the specified location. It’s not unusual for folks to have difficulty in taking that first step. It is not an easy step. Trust me, I’ve been there. After the walk, as I was getting into my car, this man came up and thanked me for the great walk, told me how much he had enjoyed it, shook hands, and went away. I was sure he had not been on the walk, but then I could not be absolutely positive. He did not join us at our refreshment place, but again it’s not an unusual occurrence on that first Saturday.

For some reason, Claire was not available for that first walk, so I told her about our elusive friend when I got home. We agreed that next Saturday would be interesting and that we would most likely see how this little saga was likely to turn out.

On the next walk, I kept looking for our friend and finally spotted him walking along about a hundred yards behind the rest of us. It takes a lot to faze both Claire and me, but this was something new. We just kept on walking with our group, but now and then checked to see if our friend was following us at the same distance. We sensed that he wanted to speak, just as he had the week before, so we waited until the rest of the group left for the refreshment place. Once again, our elusive friend thanked us for a very pleasant walk and turned as if to leave.
Claire said, “How about me giving you a Hospice Hug?” He turned back, went straight into Claire’s open arms, and his tears flowed. Nobody said a word. After a few minutes, he regained his composure, thanked us once again, promised to attend the next Saturday’s walk, and went on his way. Claire and I discussed this event with the other volunteers. We decided that it was important to respect his behavior and to be supportive without intruding.

On the next Saturday, our friend parked his car a bit apart from the group but where we could easily see it. He got out of his car and wandered around but came no closer to the rest of the walkers and volunteers. Claire walked over to greet him, spent some time making friends with his small dog, and when the group moved off suggested that he walk with her. Our friend agreed, and they followed the main group at a distance. Claire tells the rest of the story:

We started our walk, and our elusive friend began to talk. It was as if a floodgate had opened for him. He told me his whole life story: about the illness of his wife; how she died; their life together; about the children and how his life had changed. His friends had forgotten him except for a few phone calls soon after the death of his wife. He was abandoned, as it were, by his former life, and then he found us. He felt part of the group. We walked for almost a full hour, and this man paused only to take a breath. He changed from a rather reserved stranger into a cheerful, talkative, very pleasant man in the space of one hour.

Claire, somehow, convinced him to come to our refreshment place where he met the rest of the walkers and volunteers. The change in our new friend was the most remarkable one that I have seen in 16 years of volunteering in the Walking Group Program.
There is a real message for us in the behavior of the elusive walker. He was extremely shy, but once he got to know and trust us, be became an outgoing man. He participated in many of our activities, and he also resumed his friend- ships with his former friends, recognizing that sometimes one has to take that first step. Simone Weil says it best:

Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one’s attention to a sufferer is a rare and difficult thing. It is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. All we need to do is to be there and listen.