You never know when you’re going to meet someone that
will change your life. Six years ago I met a man -- a wonderful, wise,
and kind person who affected my life in a very special way.
My husband and I had just moved into our new house with
our seven-month-old baby boy. I was working as a lawyer for a non-profit
association and trying to take care of a new baby, so life was hectic to say
the least. It felt like I was always rushing from one thing to the next,
trying to make everything work. And I thought I was almost pulling it
off. Then I found out that I was pregnant with my second child. My
son was only nine months old when I got pregnant. It was so quick that
some people at work were confused about why I was “still” pregnant. They
would ask “didn’t you just have a baby?” Yes, I would tell them, and I am pregnant again. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy
and work was getting busier and busier. I felt squeezed from all
directions as I tried to maintain some semblance of a happy existence for my
family.
It was about this time that we started having our Sunday
picnics with Max, our neighbor’s father. Bette, our wonderful neighbor,
would pick him up from his retirement community every Sunday around lunch time
and bring him back to her place to spend the day. Max would sit outside
in the backyard on a simple folding chair and enjoy the trees, birds and fresh
air. He would read the paper or a book and talk to Bette about life’s
events from that week.
Since our backyards were open to each other, we would see
him and Bette sitting peacefully together enjoying the sunshine. One
Sunday, shortly after we noticed this ritual, we asked if we could join
them. They graciously welcomed us into their Sunday afternoon family
get-together. We grabbed a blanket, our baby boy, lots of tasty
picnic food and went out to join them on the grass.
We spent that afternoon laughing and sharing stories
about our lives. Being with them felt
like home. From that day forward, every time we saw Bette’s car coming
home on Sunday afternoons, we would grab a blanket, some food and join them for
a lazy Sunday picnic. This became our favorite Sunday activity.
It was during those afternoons that we would share things
about our lives, the decisions we made or didn’t make, the doubts we had, the
challenges we faced, and the joys that we experienced.
He would tell us stories about his fascinating life and
we would gobble them up with glee. He told us
about his time in the Navy during World War II and the ups and downs of his
long career in the textile industry. He talked about his love of
woodworking and gardening. He smiled as he watched the birds flying back
and forth from the trees to the bird houses that Bette had put up in her small
but perfectly manicured garden oasis.
He saw us through my difficult pregnancy and watched
every week as my two baby boys started talking, walking and experiencing the
world around them. Their first steps were on the grass around his feet,
their first words were celebrated during an afternoon in the sun, and their
giggles and tears filled the air while we shared a meal.
For six years, I saw him almost every week and shared my
life with him. I asked him advice about everything from raising a family
to work challenges. When I struggled with the decision to leave my job
and stay home with my children, his words were the ones that resonated with me
the most. He was wise, and kind with his advice.
Max died a short time ago. The news of his death
filled me with a surprisingly deep sorrow. I broke into tears often in
the days that followed as I realized that he meant more to me than just a
Sunday afternoon companion. He had filled a void in my life that I didn’t
know existed. He was the grandfather that had I lost many years
ago.
What hurt the most about his passing was that I wasn’t
able to tell him how much he had meant to me or thank him for sharing his
life’s wisdom with me. I will miss him very much but I’m so grateful
that he came into my life in such a surprising and meaningful way.