Thursday, November 17, 2011

Sometimes, I Get It Right

My coupons were clipped, and I was at the grocery store before nine o'clock on Sunday morning. My plans were to be in and out of our MegaMart and back home before eleven; where my three children would be waiting for me, hungry, knowing that Sunday morning meant my cinnamon rolls.

I grabbed the first cart at the front of the store and headed toward produce. Apples, grapes, bananas, oranges; we were out of everything and the grocery list I held proved it. I pulled off a plastic bag from the roll available and began filling it with the pears that were on special. Toss, toss, toss, three, four, five; I counted the amount I needed for the coming week's lunches. I looked around for the next item on the list.

Shoot. The grapes, I reminded myself, I can't forget the grapes. If this was the way things were going to go this morning, I'd be here forever. I made a U-turn mid-aisle to get back to the grapes I remember passing at the store's entrance. As I stood near the automatic doors loading up on the fruit I needed, I could see a tall man staring at me. I looked up, and recognized him from a church we had attended years ago.

I remembered that he had lost his wife suddenly while she was away on a business trip. She was only 39 years old.  At the time, they had a nine year old son, a twelve year old daughter, and another son who was fourteen.

"Hi," I said, surprised to see him after so many years. "Hi." He didn't answer back. "How are you doing?" I said his name twice.

He looked at me, not so much surprised as caught deep in thought. I saw that he was blinking away tears. "It's been eight years, you know."

"Yes, yes, I know. I am so very sorry."

I looked at his face. I put my bag of grapes into the shopping cart. I pulled my cart out of the way of the other early morning shoppers. He kept looking at me, not saying a word, and not moving. "Are you doing okay?" I asked, now feeling concerned for how disoriented he seemed. 

"You know, people are afraid to ask me about her. They're afraid it'll make me think of her. I think of her, even if no one asks me about her."

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know why people do that." I offered up an explanation, "maybe they're worried they'll make you sad."

He looked hard at my face for an awkward amount of time. His eyes beginning at my forehead, then jumping to each side of my cheeks. His pointed his chin down, and centered his gaze on my feet. He kept his head lowered. He began to speak, his eyes still set on my black clogs. "I knew something was wrong when they called me and told me she hadn't come to work....she never missed work. That wasn't like her..."

I felt the thickness of the shopping list I held in my right hand. I could see the hand on the clock in my head pointing to nine o'clock. I noticed how red the rims around his blue eyes were.

"You know, if we move toward the store's bank over here, we'll be out of the way," I hoped my suggestion wouldn't embarrass him. "They're closed Sundays." I didn't take my eyes off of his face.

He didn't answer back. I decided to lead the way with my cart. He didn't walk after me right away, but after a few seconds, he followed not even five feet behind.

It was quiet, empty, out of the way, where we stood. "Please," I asked him, "tell me about that morning. I've never heard you tell the story about how you found out about your wife."

He looked at me, quiet, his two lips trembling. His eyes made even more blue by the contrast of the redness surrounding them.

Without a crack in his voice, he began, "I knew something was wrong when the hotel called. She was always on time. Never missed work. That day, she was going to do a presentation for a group of engineers...." The words fell out of his mouth, so many of them, fighting to get out first, as if they hadn't seen sunlight in a lifetime.

I nodded, watching him talk. I let him tell me the story of that morning eight years ago. I let him tell me how he decided to let his three children finish out the full day in school rather than picking them up early to tell them that their mother was gone. I listened to him as he told me how the youngest didn't believe him and insisted on proof that he wouldn't see his mother again.

I listened to it all until he stopped. Then he said no more, and took a deep breath.

And then he walked away. Saying nothing.

I stood and watched the back of his blue jacket head to the store's entrance. I don't know if he went back to finish his shopping or not. I hoped for a minute that I might run into him again while we were in the store because I didn't have the chance to tell him I was sorry. I didn't have the time to ask him how I could help.

I don't know how long we had been together, and I thought of how I hadn't even started on the grocery list I came in with. I knew I'd be getting back home late. It would be time for lunch and too late for cinnamon rolls. There'd be no time for me to use the money saving coupons I had been stockpiling for this morning's trip. 

I hadn't done anything I set out to do that Sunday morning.

But, somehow, I got it right.

76 comments:

  1. I hope that anyone who needs a listening ear, will find someone like you to be there for them.

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  2. You did get it right. Sometimes it helps people so much, just to be able to get it out, give it a voice and be able to find someone willing to listen.

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  3. Yes, my dear friend, you most certainly did get it right.

    Yet another example of how much the need to tell our true stories burns inside each and every one of us, and the flames will consume all, unless we let them out.

    I am so glad that this man ran into you, a true listener, and was able to have this much needed moment of release.

    I also have a friend with 3 children who was widowed suddenly and dramatically and that's something a person never gets over, really. (Do you remember the woman who died while alone in a security lock-up in an airport, on her way to rehab? Yeah, her family.)

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  4. Wow, you did get it right, and provided just what he needed, a listening ear.

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  5. Good morning, all you lovelies: yes, this happened this past Sunday. I remember how much detail he gave me with his story. It felt so strange, all the words he had. And then, he was done. So very sad.

    Thanks for listening to my story, here.

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  6. You are a good person, allowing him to get that out. Now I need to go find some tissues.

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  7. You are were there for him. That was your purpose that morning.

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  8. You are a special, special woman. You touch people's lives in a profound way, Alexandra. The world's a better place because of you.

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  9. This is why I love you. You're so much more than chamr and wit (and cinnamon rolls, yum!)... you take the time for people. You care. You amaze me. I wish the world had more people like you.

    It would really help our cinnamon roll situation ;)

    XooX!!!

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  10. yeah you did...it was a moment that i imagine touched him greatly and you took the time and gave him something no one had...just an ear...good job empress...

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  11. Isn't it funny how we folks are, silent about the people we've lost. As if our silence somehow is the answer to pain when it actually is the opposite. I'm glad you forgot the grapes, without which you wouldn't have been there to help that man talk about his pain, grief, and the heavy isolation of being alone in his memories.

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  12. Sometimes people just need to get it out in the open--you were so sweet to listen to him.

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  13. Oh, Empress! And on a day when I'm actually wearing make-up that can get messed up with tears.

    You always get it right with stuff like this. Twitter convos, maybe not. But real life and real people? You always know what to say.

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  14. How sad. Thank you for being there for a moment, just to listen.

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  15. ...and now I'm crying. Remarkable post from a remarkable person.

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  16. It's such a hard thing to know with men, whether they're talkers or not. A friend of mine lost his wife 10 years ago to cancer and all he wanted to do was talk about it. 12 years ago my dad lost his 4th wife and he refused to talk about it, even though I begged him to.

    I think it's always best to TRY and talk, whether they can or not is up to them.

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  17. That man is holding so much sadness inside of him. You helped him get a little bit of it out. You did the right thing. I hope your children understood about the cinnamon rolls.

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  18. I'm so glad you were there for him at just that time. Funny how that works. You did enough just listening to him. It breaks my heart that he's still hurting so much.

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  19. Wow. This one really hit home. It will be 8 years next month since I lost my husband. I'm so sad for this man that he is clearly still hurting so deeply. I don't think you ever completely get over the pain or loss but by the grace of God I have managed to get beyond it and move on with my life while still carrying the love and memories in my heart. I guess he just never had the support he needed and everyone grieves differently and on his/her own timeline.

    So glad you took time to listen to him. Many would have just found it too uncomfortable to deal with.

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  20. You did get it so right. You were what he needed in the moment.

    Well done, Mama!

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  21. Yes, you did. Listening is the easiest and hardest thing to do at the proper time.

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  22. Oh how painful - that he could be so lost after 8 years. How painful.

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  23. You absolutely got it right.

    And I bet one of your readers here will get it right when it's their turn.

    We have been reminded that to be present, really present, for someone else is an amazing gift.

    Thank you for sharing this one. I hope he finds some peace.

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  24. You most certainly did. What a wonderful and rare thing you did for that man.

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  25. You did, indeed. And I have to ditto Lady Jennie. Oh my goodness did he need to talk. It sounds like all that pain is still right at the surface...so sad.

    I can't hear stories like this without saying I just have no idea what I would DO if that happened to me.

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  26. I suspect you get a lot of things right.....

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  27. Unbelievably sad. I can't imagine. Thank you for the reminder to stop and take time for people.

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  28. You're amazing.
    People just need other people to listen...not hear...listen. I thank whoever is running this show, that you ran into him that day.

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  29. You definitely got it right.

    I don't know what it is about grief. It just hits you at the strangest, most surprising moments. Last night I started crying about my dog while the kids were watching "Annie."And last week I lost it after seeing a woman with her grandkids at a bounce house (thinking about my mom, not the dog). Who knows what it was for this guy. Maybe the grapes.

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  30. Tears streaming down my face as I sit here reading. So heartbreaking. But what a good person you are, Alexandra.

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  31. --You did tell him you were sorry.

    You. Listened.

    This encounter took my breath away.

    I understand exsactly how he feels.

    X

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  32. --You did say you were sorry.

    You. Listened.

    This encounter took my breath away.

    I understand exsactly how he feels.

    X

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  33. I'm so glad you were there for him.

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  34. you have a beautiful heart, and I'm so grateful that you shared this moment with your readers. to allow them to see how easy it is to really listen. to prioritize someone's emotional state and need for an ear over a list and cranky children who expected cinnamon rolls. To get that you are in the right place at the right time, and that you are making a difference. I love moments like this. I'll pray for comfort and peace for him, now that you've let me know he's out there.

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  35. That made my heart stop. I'm so glad I have a friend who would do what you did. xxoo

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  36. You are a gift to many more people than you know. Love you.

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  37. This is an amazing story. I literally felt like I was in the store with you, a quiet corner tucked away from the hustle and bustle. I can't imagine the sudden and inexplicable loss of someone like that.

    There was a reason you were there at that exact time. Those things don't happen by accident.

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  38. An open heart is always a beautiful thing.

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  39. My nephew died in infancy, and the one and only positive thing that came from it was a lesson my sister taught me: you have to say *something* when someone is grieving. She said that even when people said the wrong thing, they were acknowledging the loss of her beloved boy, remembering that he once existed. And that matters.

    Your listening was a gift to this man, and it sounds like you got it exactly right.

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  40. Wow - you did get it right.....

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  41. You did good, Mama. If only everyone who is hurting could find someone like you.

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  42. Thank you, all of you. I tried so hard to not cry when he was talking to me..I didn't want him to stop b/c he felt bad for me.

    So I just listened, but he has stayed in my mind since Sunday.

    Thank you for your kind comments.

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  43. That was so powerful. Thank you for sharing. Everyone processes things differently. It was so kind of you to be there for that man. Obviously, that's what he needed.

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  44. He just needed to talk didn't he? And know someone was really listening.

    It's so hard to know what is the right thing and look; the right thing is so easy.

    smooches - you are amazing.

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  45. It is these small kindnesses that make us human in the very best of ways. It is hard not to be distracted, focused on our own troubles and To Do lists, but it is very very good when we can step out of ourselves and our lives for a moment. He appreciates it more than you can imagine.

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  46. Oh, momma - you did get it right, and that's quite the gift you gave him.

    *hugs*

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  47. You did absolutely get it right that morning. Just by listening to a story that man has held in for eight years you gave that sweet man some closure. It's always hard to approach someone when they are grieving because we are always too caught up in what to say. Sometimes we don't need to say anything at all, and this beautiful story illustrates that perfectly.

    And this is why I love you so much. You got me all choked up here. *HUGS*

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  48. This brought tears to my eyes.

    Offering him an ear to listen was the best thing you could have done. xo

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  49. this is when I am sure we're related cosmically. I would have listened and hugged in exact the same way. Sometimes it's the litte things that are the BIG things..and your heart heard his that day. WHat a gift, for both of you.

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  50. It is strange, isn't it, that we greet grief with silence as if somehow if we don't say anything then what? maybe it didn't really happen? So important to hear the words, ask the questions, allow whatever happens, happen (even if it means missing cinnamon rolls). Your children (missing the rolls) will learn the importance of listening and the meaning of compassion (especially if you bring them double-the-rolls the next weekend). What a brave thing, oddly, to stop the rush of The List and take the time to listen to that man's pain. I hope there are others in his life, somewhere, who will listen, too.

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  51. This is beautiful, Alexandra. Heartbreaking, and I am proud of you. Sometimes we just have to let our plans slide, because of a greater good we can do. I can't imagine how much that man needed to talk to someone...and after 8 years?? My heart aches for him.

    You wrote this so beautifully too. It's perfect.

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  52. I lost one of my dearest friends very suddenly a few months ago and this post made me think of her. It especially made me think of her husband and how I hope, five or eight or twelve years from now, someone just like you will stop to talk to him about his unforgettable wife in the supermarket.

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  53. This is the line that stops me cold:
    "I think of her, even if no one asks me about her."

    Because it is so hard and awkward and painful to ask, to know the right words to say. Everyone's grief is so very different.

    A friend of mine (we haven't been close for years, but still) just lost her 18-year-old son on October 30th.

    She has been inundated with support, of course, in the short term. But my heart cracks when I think about her months from now, or years.

    How does someone move through her day after such tragedy? How will she go to the grocery store?

    I can only hope that there will be angels around her, people like you, who will appear when she needs them most.

    I hope.

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  54. Thank you all.

    I think about what it must take, to continue on with the mundane, after your world is knocked off course.

    I can't even imagine.

    And how do you tell your children???

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  55. how did you do this????!!!!!!


    Candace

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  56. Could not have gotten it more right. I'm afraid I would have looked the other way because I would have been in a hurry. You were his guardian angel that day.

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  57. You got it exactly right.

    You are a remarkable person. Someone who helps all of those in need.

    That makes you beyond special.

    Thanks for being you.

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  58. Hello there -- Compassion is a rare gift and you have it in spades.

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  59. I found myself holding my breath as I read your beautiful and sad post. My heart breaks for your friend but I'm pretty sure he was appreciative of your time and support.
    Big sigh, xo jj

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  60. Oh, Alexandra...I want to be you when I grow up.

    Honestly, I think you always get it right.

    Thanks for sharing this story with all of us...

    XOXO

    Anna

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  61. Beautifully written, beautiful heart.

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  62. Beautiful and sad...sometimes we just need someone to listen. And you did.

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  63. Amazing. I have chills all over. My god, that's so sad. It's such a good lesson that people who are hurting NEED to talk about it, not be avoided. People need outlets and we tend to shy away from those who suffer. Thank you for this reminder. Very moving.

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  64. Get it right, you did. Just to be listened to - what a gift you gave.

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  65. You did the right thing. People never know what to say to someone who suffers a loss, even years after the loss it is clearly difficult. You are a kind person.

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  66. You were wonderful! It sounds like he really needed to talk about his wife. You really gave him an ear to lean on.

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  67. My heart just paused, I was standing there in that busy entrance with you both. It's amazing who and what can bring a memory right there, right on the surface of our minds.

    Alexandra I am so grateful it was you he ran into that Sunday morning, even if his muddled mind doesn't remember exactly the conversation....well your grace will be of comfort.

    xoxoxox

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  68. You were probably at the perfect place and time to help that man. You were sent there for a reason. Hugs.

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  69. what an intriguing story. very well told.

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  70. Amazingly right. This is so painful to read but so beautifully told.

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  71. I have a book on my shelf titled Listening is an Act of Love. So true.

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  72. I so hope Partly Sunny is right when she said you sparked something that accessed his grief. I hope he's not walking around like that all the time, like a balloon ready to pop. I hope he functions and is there for his kids and feels joy. I'd like to think you took him back and enabled him to give voice to the pain. I'd like to think that, but I sense I'm wrong and that he is walking around broken with grief. He needs more Empresses to do the right thing by him.

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  73. I think that you got it perfect. I hope that he finds a way to work through his grief... it's good that you were there to listen. Sounds like that was exactly what was needed at that moment.

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  74. Oh wow... I have chills, seriously. I feel so terribly sad for this mad. I can totally understand how grief can last a lifetime. I hate tragic stories... I can't handle this type of news. It was like fate maybe that you were there, at that time, to listen to him. Maybe you'll see him again? I'm sorry. I think you handled this situation perfectly. Huges to you.

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  75. You were supposed to go to the grocery store that day, but not for groceries.
    Thank God for you.

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