I’m standing in the toy aisle at Walmart yesterday, shopping for my grandson’s birthday, and this woman approaches me and says “I’m from Kansas.”
And I’m thinking ‘oookkkk?’
Then she says “In Kansas we don’t have locked toy cabinets!”
So, I say, “Maybe that’s because in Kansas there’s nothing to steal?”
Now, with hands on her hips, she starts defending her state.
“No, I get it,” I gently interrupt her. “Kansas is probably like North Dakota. My wife was born in North Dakota.”
She then exclaims, “I was born in South Dakota!”
I then pointed to the tulip pin I always wear and said, “See this tulip pin?”
She said, “I had seen that! Beautiful! What’s it for?”
And just like that the tears threatened again, in the toy aisle, taking to a stranger from Kansas.
I guess that’s the way it will always be now that I lost my wife to cancer the first day of spring of this year after 50 years of marriage.
Tears, like rain, always threatening but at the same time nourishing both me, strangers, and friends alike, as well as the scores and scores of tulips our family planted the other day, a festival and spectacle next spring of the beauty of a love and a dream we realized.
We grew old together.
Nothing wrong with tears. It shows that you have a feeling heart. I rather see somebody touched for whatever reason than dry as a stone.
That tulip is pretty, by the way!
Thank you Susanne.
Tears are ever present.
Yesterday our family all gathered for the annual trek to get our Christmas trees. I saw two couples holding hands and so I gave them each a card with a photo of my wife and I on one side and a personal note on the other.
I said, “You don’t know me, nor do I of course know you, but I saw you holding hands and I wanted to thank you for doing so with this card. Holding hands is something I can no longer do.”
And just like that, this couple of total strangers, reached out and grasped my hands and expressed their sympathy.
As I wandered around the Christmas Tree farm in search of others holding hands, this one couple returned and thanked me for thanking them.
David,
I agree with Susanne. Having said that, I see no purpose in releasing my typical verbosity to support your recognition of tears nearby. If I may, a small comment can be found below should you continue reading my response.
I too know what it is like to have tears nearby which has brought my emotions to the surface as two friends of mine face a short future. One friend at 81 knows he will never see age 82. A second friend fights for his life after suffering a serious stroke.at age 85.
Susanne’s suggestion is correct. Tears or tears nearby can be a good thing.
Joseph Boyle – A guy out of your past.
Thank you Joseph. As you can read in my response to Susanne, reaching out with a card, or writing so others can more deeply appreciate the gift of life they’ve been given, and those they’ve been privileged to spend it with, to be a blessing the rest of the way, that’s my goal. Knowing you, I’m sure that will be your purpose as well with those you mentioned who are reaching the end of their journey. Blessings!
David,
Another beautiful photo, one with you, Lennie, field of tulips.
So tell us, what did you buy for your grandson; or does he read your remembrances?
Thank you Bob. My most precious gift to me of course was my wife Lennie. My gift to my grandson was a Lego truck. And even without something wrapped up for him, he always, upon seeing me, wraps me in his arms with a hug.