Have you ever been helped by a total stranger–physically, emotionally, financially-- when you really needed it, when that person had no legal or professional obligation to help? For that matter, have you ever been the stranger offering the such aid?
If so, tell us your story.
Before I offer mine, let me define total stranger as someone whose name you did not know, nor the reverse, at the beginnng of the encounter in question; likewise, you should never even have talked to them. Best of all would be if you’d never laid eyes on them before, but that third attribute is not strictly necessary.
And here’s my story.
As some of you may know, my mother died a week ago today. I didn’t get the message that she’d passed on until after her body had been taken out of her hospital room, and between trying to support my father, writing my tribute, preparing for the influx of relatives coming in town, and getting ready for the funeral, I did not get a chance to see her body alone until the visitation. I went to that a bit early hoping that I might have a moment alone with Mother’s body, but she was so beloved that about two dozen of her friends had the same thought; I tried again before the funeral, but the same thing happened.
So yesterday I drove out to the cemetery to say goodbye in private. The trip wasn’t planned; I happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to go on impulse. I got there just shy of sunset, and with a little help from a map provided by two office workers went off to find the grave. They offered to go with me, but I said I’d rather go by myself. As I walked, I struggled for words to say to her as my final goodbye; though I’d written a letter to her and placed it in her casket (per Nutty Bunny’s suggestion), that hadn’t quite done it.
The map wasn’t helpful as helpful as one might have wished; I could find the general section, but the specific plot was harder, though the earth should still have been visibly untilled. Being miserable, confused, I was oblivious to my surroundings. Consequently I was a little startled when a voice asked me who I was visiting. Turning, I saw a man a little older than I, looking at me gently. When I told him I was visiting my mother’s grave, he said that he’d just finished doing the same thing when he saw me walking past, obviously looking for something. I showed him the map, and he looked it over, figured out where we were, and led me there. He had, he said, noticed the untilled earth here when cleaning off his own father’s headstone, and when he saw me searching had thought this was what I looked for. While we walked he told me about his long estrangement from his father, which, he said, had not been resolved prior to his father’s death. But, he went on, though he regretted that, he had learned to let go. He had never had occasion to doubt his father’s love for him, and he knew his father would not wish him to feel remorseful or guilty forever. He told me that he knew I was forlorn at that moment, but that I didn’t have to fear that I would always be so. And, just before we got to my mother’s grave – very near his father’s, as I said – he showed me how the vase that comes with the grave markers worked, so that, when Mother’s marker finally gets put in, I won’t have any difficulty putting flowers there. With that he walked away so I could have a little time with my mother, and when I was done he pointed out two trees near the grave that I could always use as a landmark to find my way back, and then walked back with me to my car.
In short, he was an angel.
Anyone else have a tale of kindness to tell?