In Memory of Doc

Doc was an amazing and loving man who brought people together to share laughs, stories and great food.  Doc was a client of mine back in 2003 and suffered from schizophrenia.  He was Jamaican and had a gift for cooking his native foods, his weekly meal became a time when everyone gathered together in the residence.  His cooking became my greatest asset in reaching out to my clients and staff.

The joy of his meal brought even the most elusive of clients home, relaxed and full for the evening.  I soon changed my schedule and began working later on Doc’s assigned day to cook.  It was a great feeling to look around and see everyone interacting, laughing and enjoying the moment.  They all had so many problems, staff and clients alike, but in this moment they were united. 

This united feeling translated into treatment, because they had begun to know and trust each other.  The greatest irony was that this was the most difficult residence we ran at the time, a 24-hour staffed group home for those with mental illness and substance abuse treatment needs.  This was the house where clients went missing on a regular basis, individuals were hospitalized on a regular basis and treatment was complicated by the fact that many of the clients did not want to engage in treatment.  This made Doc’s weekly gathering a rare and opportune moment for any treatment planning and implementations to occur.

Doc was around just long enough for the schedule and routine to stick and in his absence staff and clients worked together to try and replicate his cooking.  I recall when he went missing and the feeling of worry.  I called every hospital and police station in the Boston area.  I faxed his picture and info to everyone I could, including the state morgue.  Poor Doc lied there for seventeen days before anyone was notified.  He died at the track so I tell myself he was happy, he loved that place.

His funeral was like nothing I had ever experienced.  The raw emotion at the grave took all my strength.  His mother fell into my arms struck by grief and his brother hurried over to stand her up again.  He was such a handsome man, the youngest of nine children he looked just like his older brother Doc.  He was a gentle man like his brother too, he had the same kind soul.  

Following the funeral was a celebration of Doc’s life, complete with great food and music.  For hours all those who loved and knew Doc danced, laughed and celebrated.  What a contrast to how I had been raised.  I recall thinking, this is what I want people to be like when I die.

Residential being what it is, before long there were all new staff and all new clients living there in Doc’s home, but every Wednesday night the group came together for dinner.

Rest in Peace Doc