She sits alone, away from the window. She is a regular customer yet I almost don't recognize her. There is something different about her. She is gloomy, retreated in her own space, alone.
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She flips through her phone. She waits for her meal, oblivious to her surroundings. I walk by her table as I make my way towards the front door. It is the end of my shift. My bags are packed and I'm ready to go home.
"How are you tonight?" I find myself asking.
She looks up, confused, disoriented.
"Not so good," she says. "My grandfather died today."
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"I'm so sorry!" I say, putting my bags on the empty chair opposite her.
She puts her phone down.
"I was very close to him," she continues, as if my presence was a door of entry to her story. "It's hard," she adds.
"I know," I tell her. "It's never easy to lose someone we love."
"No. It isn't," she leans back on her chair. "It's all the little things about him I know I'll miss more. Like baseball." She is lost in thought.
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After a few moments, she looks up at me once more.
"Or how he loved hearing me play the piano," she says, now turning her gaze towards the ocean.
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She reaches for her glass of white wine and makes a toast in the air, to no one seen, only remembered.
"Just know you are not alone," I offer.
I tell her that because I too remember my grandfather, his laughter, the two missing fingers of his right hand. I remember how he walked with his cane yet still wanted to dance.
"Thank you," she says.
Is it my imagination or is she smiling?
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As her grandfather continues on his journey to the unseen world, she sits in a crowded restaurant, surrounding herself with strangers to lessen the pain of loss.
"It'll get better. I promise," I say grabbing my bags to leave her to her Friday night.
As I reach the front door I wonder why I decided to stop at her table. Was I lead by her grandfather's unseen hand wanting to lessen his granddaughter's grief?
What goes on behind a person's eyes as they go about their day? I interact with hundreds of people daily. I see bodies going about their business, attitudes being displayed over petty things. How often do I stop to genuinely ask, "How are you today?"
For some of us, today is just another day. For others, it is the end of the road, a day when the sun sets for the last time.
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Today, a grieving woman gave me a gift. She reminded me how important it is to take a moment to reach out and pause long enough to tell another that everything will be OK.
~ 🌹 ~
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