As I mentioned yesterday, I had a heart loop reading. These take place at one of the major hospitals in town, so it's a busy, bustling place. As we were walking out of the lobby, I noticed a young woman sitting on a couch, very sad. Her day was not going as well as mine was. This is a problem with hospitals. Not every ending is a happy one. I sighed to myself and went on outside. Lithus called a cab. It would take 20-25 minutes to get to us. Fine. Just fine. We'd go grab a coffee.
In the 10 or 15 minutes it took us to get our drinks and come back out onto the curb, the young woman had moved outside. All the way down at the very end of the line of benches. It was still not a good day. Lithus and I talked. About my health. About the day. About where we would go for lunch. And the young woman cried. I know this pain; I also knew I could do nothing. Nothing can make this pain better. Honestly, not even time. But I had tissues in my purse.
No, I couldn't help ~ but I could help. I walked over to her, squatted down in front of her, and handed her my packet of tissues. I cannot make this better, but is there anything I can do? No, she assured me, there wasn't. So, I nodded and had barely moved to leave when it's my daaad...came out of her. I stayed put. I listened. He was dead. At the holidays. She hoped he knew how much she loved him. Her sister was in there, but she couldn't see him again, not like this. I patted her hand. I listened. I shared my story as much as I could without making it about me. I couldn't make it better, though, and we both knew it.
I told her she was right ~ it wouldn't get better soon; it wouldn't get better the way she wanted it to; it wouldn't ever be the way it had been; but to keep putting one foot in front of the other because it would get better, in its own way. I promised her Daddys know things we have no idea they know, including how much we love them. I asked what his name was. I told her my dad's name. She smiled. Every so slightly. Mostly, though, I listened. Let her cry. When she apologized, wouldn't let it happen. Don't apologize; I knew what I was coming over into. And finally, there was nothing else I could do.
I pointed to where Lithus and I were sitting and stood up. Did she want a hug? No, no, that was fine...what the hell, yes! Yes she did. So I hugged her and let her let go first. Within moments, my cab arrived and with a final wave, we were out of each others' lives.
As I told Lithus, she will remember this day for the rest of her life. It will be one of the worst memories she has. But maybe, if it doesn't become nothing more than a blur of badness, she will remember three minutes when a total stranger gave her tissues, an ear, and a hug. I know I will always remember her.
His name was Rick.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
5 comments:
When I was newly and unexpectedly pregnant with our perfect third, we visited a new town across the country. I was scared. At a little strip mall in the middle of nowhere, my boys were running ahead, laughing and chasing, and ran past a shop door just as a woman walked out. She looked at me and said, "Are these yours?" Yes, they are. She looked me right in the eye and smiled. "Good. You should have more." I smiled and thanked her. I didn't tell her I was going to - I was a couple months yet from showing. But she was an angel, delivering a Divine message of hope and assurance, and I will never forget her. Angels move in and out of our lives and we're blessed if we recognize them - even more so if we're allowed to BE them. Thank you for being her angel... She will never forget your comfort.
That brought tears to my eyes. In case anyone hasn't told you recently, Pobble, you are a Really Good person.
Crow ~ I'm glad you had an angel. I'm honored to have been this young woman's.
Mike ~ Thank you. I have recently learned it's nice to hear.
This is why I love you!
Shoshanna ~ Love you right back.
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