Finding Purpose Through Poetry: William Winkelman’s Story
At Gilchrist, every patient’s journey is shaped by resilience, love, and the support they receive along the way. For palliative care patient William Winkelman, that support has been constant—from the compassionate nurses who cared for his late wife, Lynda, to the team now helping him manage Parkinson’s disease and the daily challenges that come with it.
A Life of Hard Work and Creativity
At 79, William still calls home the house his grandfather built in the 1880s—a place filled with generations of family history. He grew up surrounded by a large family, where his mother was known for her generous Saturday chili pots that drew neighbors from all around. Those early lessons in tradition, community, and perseverance continue to guide the way he lives today.
At just 14, William met his wife, Lynda, at a teen dance—a chance encounter that grew into a 55-year love story. When William was stationed in Germany with the U.S. Army, Lynda joined him, and together they embraced the adventure of living abroad before returning home to start their life as a family. They went on to raise two sons, Brian and Steve, and filled their home with laughter, lasting memories, and a circle of dear friends.
William built a 40-year career as a butcher for Giant Food, but his gifts reach far beyond his profession. He is a true creator—an oil painter who taught himself through Bob Ross, a craftsman who designed and built custom knives with stag handles, and now, a poet who has written nearly 50 works collected into three books. His son prints and binds the collections, which William often gives away as cherished gifts.
A Love Story Tested by Illness
On their 55th wedding anniversary, William and Lynda’s friends and family surprised them with a vow renewal ceremony. William even wrote a special poem for the occasion, which he read aloud to the congregation as they celebrated the love and devotion that had defined their life together.
Not long after that joyful milestone in 2020, Lynda was diagnosed with Lewy body dementia. William devoted himself to caring for her in the home where they had raised their sons. It was her wish to remain there until the very end—and through Gilchrist’s home hospice program, that wish was honored. Surrounded by family and the familiar comforts of home, Lynda was able to take her final breath in peace.
“The nurses were here 24/7,” William recalls. “They cared for her as if she were their own. I was so impressed—and their presence made the journey easier for me and my sons.”
Continuing His Journey With Gilchrist
Now under Gilchrist’s palliative care, William is focusing on ways to improve his quality of life. Unlike hospice, which supports patients in the final months of life, palliative care is designed to walk alongside individuals earlier in their journey—managing symptoms, providing emotional and spiritual support, and helping families navigate the challenges of serious illness. For William, that means having a team that listens, checks in on his needs, and makes sure he never feels alone in the process.
“I hate to be idle,” William says with a smile. “The Lord’s given me so much—a wonderful wife, two good sons, and the chance to keep creating. I’m grateful.” William’s story is a reminder that with the right support, patients can continue living with dignity, purpose, and connection—even in the face of illness.
As William continues to write, one of his poems, Dinosaurs, reflects his honest and heartfelt perspective on aging—and reminds us of the value every person carries, no matter their stage of life:
Dinosaurs
There once was a time,
when I carried some weight.
Now I’m “Too old soon”
and smart, “I’m too late.”
There’s no use for me now,
they don’t need me no more,
Just bones in a museum,
an Old Dinosaur.
Don’t want my suggestions,
no time for to hear,
the ideas that I have,
All from yesterday year.
They say I’m a relic,
a work from the past,
Now the accent’s on youth;
Me, I’m just an outcast.
But there has to be something
I can bring to the plate?
I still have skills,
please don’t berate.
Even Dinosaurs have feelings,
I admit we’re thin-skinned.
If we once were important,
we can have importance again.
We don’t ask a lot,
just a kind listening ear.
But we usually wind up,
With a kick in the rear.
I guess I should wake up,
Realize what’s in store.
No one wants to hear,
this Dinosaur roar any more.
To learn more about Gilchrist’s palliative and hospice care, visit: https://gilchristcares.org/