Atlanta Layover, Gate C43 Part Two: Please keep my new friend, her son, and his partner of 31 years in your prayers. She was flying home to say goodbye to her son in hospice. I did not break down in order for her to do so while we sat at our gate waiting for our plane to arrive. There is more to it but her son and I have a disease that starts with the letter C, although a different type. Sigh. He will be free soon. Thats the only way as a patient and human being that I can make sense of another loss she is about to grieve. I look at this woman as Im comforting her thinking to myself she is the strong one. And she wasnt the only friend and loved one in my heart at that moment because, Im sorry but this year, well the past several, are just too much grief on many levels for many people close to my heart. So the freedom...its true and its comforting, and so is what I did for her unselfishly tonight because I felt her energy, and knew she needed to talk. Prior to our encounter, I was blogging about the lack of table manners the guy smacking his lips and chewing like a cow across from me on his Happy Meal. I wanted to stop but I couldnt,...and then her phone dropped. I didnt hesitate. She is widowed. Twice. Had three boys. Two already passed. And now this flight. And the reason why. Sigh. That layover...And our time together on that flight...I had Delta move my seat across from her and made sure she was taken care of, including her cane and wheelchair. She told me she likes to journal. I told her I did, too. Her son is only 60. It is heartbreaking. That layover in Atlanta was about being there for someone else when you can feel they need you. You just have to pay attention. After I picked up her phone and handed it to her, she thanked me. I told her, I am happy to help. Then I asked her if she was comfortable (because I didnt think she was) with where the Delta escort left her positioned in the wheelchair. She said, Yes, Im alright, and thanked me again. And that was that. I returned to my seat, at our gate about 5 seats down from her, near the gate entrance. I guess I gave her something to think about as I walked away. Sure enough, she spun her chair around and wheeled it over to me, struggled to grab her cane, got up (did not want any help), and said she changed her mind and wanted to sit with me for the rest of our layover. So, I listened and held her hand a few times and let her cry on my shoulder. It wasnt pity. It was pure love for another human being. If that was my son or my mother; Id have wanted someone to comfort him or her. She told me a story about her cane as we were landing. Said she refused to get those ugly generic ones like the rest of the old folks her age. It was so cute. She bragged and said hers was custom made and hand-carved after purchased from a canyon (I cant remember) in Arizona. And no, it wasnt the Grand Canyon, I wouldve remembered that. Tonight my heart broke in several places. I was on my way home to be with my family after my experience at CTCA, and she was on her way to be with her family and say goodbye to her son. It is not a coincidence we flew to ABE on the same day, at the same time, on the same flight, going to the same destination. I guess she was supposed to drop her phone in order for me to pick it up and ask her if she was comfortable. We exchanged contact information and hugged at baggage claim after she found her son-in-law, and I watched her walk out the door. She said she would call while she was in town or when she gets back to Tucson. She kept saying over and over how shes the only one left and its just her now, that all her boys will be gone. The tears I didnt shed at that gate are coming down now as I share the rest of our encounter. Life is too short and I promise you it is ALWAYS about love, no matter what form it comes in. I promised my new friend I would visit her when I get back and told her we would play 500 Rummy. And I will. Her birthday is November 2nd. She will be 81. This woman is the survivor. A good friend was smart enough to point that out to me after I told her this story. Sometimes people need a survivor to teach them how to survive. Wise words, Ms. Ashley Culligan. Love you. Love to all of you. Sincerely, Humbled
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 06:58:25 +0000
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