Éluard wrote that there is no chance, only meetings. Such a meeting had been planned for a long time with my correspondent, the philosopher Jacques Dufresne. Not one of his missives in which this singular personality unearths a poet or an old Greek, without pedantry, simply for the pleasure of bequeathing, of passing the baton to the next team.
At 82 years old, sweetening Parkinson’s strawberries without self-pity, he entered the RPA in Magog last November with his wife, Hélène Laberge, his partner of 62 years, silent and wearing a Mona Lisa smile in her Alzheimer’s case. That’s where I met them last week.
Despite the trials of age and illness, the bereavements, the beautiful Ayer’s Cliff house left behind, we can still find love, a “love without the hormones”, he adds. The man of letters and words introduces me to his chosen one, the one he nicknames Diotima, the prophetess of Banquet of Plato who instructs Socrates in the things of love.
There is from early childhood to the grave, deep in the heart of every human being, something which, despite all the experience of crimes committed, suffered and observed, invincibly expects to be done to it. good and not evil. It is this, above all else, that is sacred in every human being.
The meeting between the humble and sensitive Nathalie Lévesque, 53 years old, responsible for the nightly care of residents, and the philosopher who is a bit of a poet was the result of pure chance. These two didn’t have the slightest chance of crossing paths, except when age makes you like every other man.
“You are only light, adorable half / Of a love too similar to weak friendship” (Paul Valéry), recites “Monsieur Jacques” to explain the word philia, a friendship that resembles reasonable love. Nathalie joined Pinecroft Gardens after having “taken off her felt hats” as an attendant in a hospital environment, where everything was moving too quickly for her.
Since 2019, she takes the time, chats with her residents, sings The Ballad of happy People in the cafeteria, philosophizing about old age and death with “Monsieur Jacques”, whether she speaks informally or speaks to you. And he adds these verses from Victor Hugo: “If you wanted, I would be a prince; I would be god, if you wanted. »
A Prayer for Wisdom
Nathalie smiles, accustomed to these poetic impulses which belong to the classic culture of her high-flying resident: “My calling is to work with the unloved in life,” she confides to me. “At the age of five, watching World Vision advertisements on television, I understood that there is something bad in humans. I had anxiety. I always felt different from others. I asked myself too many questions,” says this angel, with tears in his eyes.
On his black work shirt, the word “love” in every sense. On his forearm, the serenity prayer tattooed…
Interspersing the conversation with verses from Aragon, Marcus Aurelius or sentences from Simone Weil (the philosopher did his doctoral thesis on her in Dijon), “Monsieur Jacques” explains that this tattoo turned the conversation around with his attendant. . He who did not lead much when he arrived, flirting with depression, discovered thanks to this woman, sober for 24 years, this prayer by the American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, the anthem of the AA, pure stoicism according to Dufresne:
God, give us grace
to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
the courage to change those that should be changed,
and the wisdom to distinguish them one from the other.
“The next day he asked me if I was an alcoholic. Do you remember that, Mr. Jacques? Today, God manifests himself on my path. I pay it forward. »
Today like every day, Monsieur Jacques monitors Diotime’s schedule and awaits her arrival at 4 p.m. “I live by presence. To be deprived of her would be to be deprived of life and love. » He fears that she will go elsewhere; she fears that he will leave for Elsewhere.
We are not made for misfortune, but by misfortune
“An intellectual like me thinks before living; Nathalie lives before thinking. But she is a natural philosopher; the questions are asked of her and not the other way around. The company does not create Nathalies in schools. It’s life that makes them. When I asked him “what does the soul mean to you?”…”
— I replied: “That which does not die!” » continues Nathalie.
— This is the most scathing answer to this question, concluded the professor, proud of his student.
What if love survived us?
He who taught philosophy, chronicled in Duty and to The Presslaunched the free encyclopedia The Agora with his wife, has reservations about schooling and does not make it an absolute. He discovers the power of the heart in these women who hold the end of life at arm’s length. “These qualities, in Nathalie, what creates them is the humus in which we bathe. Formal education is not enough. » A lip service to an education system that only recognizes diplomas. “The flaw in current culture is that it compartmentalizes high culture while supreme things are intended for people who have suffered, like Nathalie. » He quotes Homer; she replies laughing: “Do you know Homer Simpson, Monsieur Jacques? »
The philosopher is outraged by the colossal sums devoted to medical technologies: “But when it concerns humans, there is no more money. This is how you destroy a civilization! »
It would have only taken one more moment For death to come But a bare hand Then came Who took mine
Dufresne chose her RPA because of the director, a great human being; Nathalie also stays “because I never had a boss like that”. (Note to Minister Dubé: you want to clone her. Her name is Martine Coulombe.)
In the winter of his life, Monsieur Jacques discovers the kindness and dedication of women who have Love printed in their hearts and on their shirts, no theory, only common sense at $18 an hour… plus $4 of the government.
As in the fable of the Lion and the Rat, where the lion is nothing without the little rodent, “Patience and length of time / Are more than force or rage”.
Monsieur Jacques recites “One day you will see, we will meet”, Mouloudji’s song. I sing it for him in front of his beautiful Hélène, who momentarily extricates herself from the nets of oblivion to hum it by heart with me.
In the car, on the way back, the first song on my music list is perhaps no coincidence: Love, love, love, one of my favorites from Mouloudji. “Love is when you love me / Love is when I love you / Without telling you / Without telling me.” »
All is said.
JOBLOG — Where is happiness?