Posted on 07/31/2022 3:53:07 AM PDT by sodpoodle
I arrived at the address and honked the horn.
After waiting a few minutes I honked again.
Since this was going to be my last ride of
my shift I thought about just driving away,
But instead I put the car in park and
walked up to the door and knocked...
'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened.
A small woman in her 90's stood before me.
She was wearing a print dress
and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it,
like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years.
All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no
knickknacks or utensils on the counters.
In the corner was a cardboard box filled
with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab,
then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly
toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness.
'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat
my passengers
the way I would want my mother to be treated.'
'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said.
When we got in the cab,
she gave me an address and then asked,
'Could you drive through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said.
'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'.
I looked in the rear-view mirror.
Her eyes were glistening.
'I don't have any family left,'
she continued in a soft voice...
'The doctor says I don't have very long.'
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city.
She showed me the building where she
had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and
her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.
She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse
that had once been a ballroom where she had gone
dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of
a particular building or corner
and would sit staring into the darkness,
saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon,
She suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address
she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small
convalescent home,
with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon
as we pulled up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching
her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small
suitcase to the door.
The woman was already seated in
a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked,
reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I answered.
'You have to make a living,' she said.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and
gave her a hug.
She held onto me tightly.
'You gave an old woman a little moment
of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then
walked into the dim morning light.
Behind me, a door shut.
It was the sound of the closing of a life...
For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one
who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run,
or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that
I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our
lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us
unaware – beautifully wrapped in what
others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID,
BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER
HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL...
At the bottom of this great story was a
request to forward this –
I deleted that request because if you
have read to this point,
You won't have to be asked to pass it
along, you just will...
Thank you, my friend...
but while we are here we might as well dance...
To do what is the greatest joy when there is little left to do
Thank you for a great start to a beautiful Sunday morning.
YA GOT ME. Brought tears to my eyes.
Keep the Faith.
I clicked on this thread expecting your regular joke thread.
Thank you for posting. Good reminder for all.
What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it.
I read this following the grief of losing my father in law last night. Ironically my wife and I were at dinner for our anniversary last night. Her friend had called earlier in the day to tell her to be prepared, it wouldn’t be long. We were both joking that we’d be pissed if he died on our anniversary, which is today. It seems that Harold broke the trend of familial deaths on birthdays or other otherwise happy events. Thankful knowing he is in heaven and will not be suffering any more. He had his second stroke from what I suspect is from the multiple jabs he took. He lived a good long life into his 80s and although will be missed we have some awesome memories of him in healthier days.
Well done. Thank you for this ;post.
Oh man...my eyes are blurry...
"What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one
who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run,
or had honked once, then driven away?"
But she didn't. You appeared for her.
"On a quick review, I don't think that
I don't either.
I have done anything more important in my life.'
Perhaps it was destiny, hers and yours. Perhaps it was a miracle. Many miracles happen to all of us. Most go unnoticed.
When I was a medical student, late one night, after midnight, when I was so exhausted I could hardly move, and I was scared because I seriously needed to study, the chief resident sent me to clean the suppurating wound of a man who was dying of throat cancer and had developed a fistula (an abnormal channel) between his trachea and skin.
He was so terribly unhappy. He kept coughing uncontrollably, and, as he did, bloody phlegm flew from the fistula. I had to keep ducking to keep the phlegm from hitting me, and I was not completely successful. He kept apologizing.
I was trying not to hurt him.
After a while, as he apologized again, I said this to him: "There is no where I would rather be right now and nothing I would rather be doing than this."
That was true.
A calm came over him.
In that moment, I loved that man, whom I had never seen before or did since, as much as I have ever loved anyone.
What happened that night was a miracle. I hope that I brought comfort and love to him, but I was as much a recipient of miraculous grace as he was, in fact probably more.
I have never forgotten him. I have never forgotten that miracle. I have never ceased looking for other miracles. They happen to us all the time.
To be blessed with the divine virtues of faith, hope, and charity is the greatest miracle of all, and it can happen to every one of us, any time.
I’m so sorry
Ping
Beautiful story.
Many thanks on a Sunday morning.
Heartfelt, fact-filled, so don’t let the title fool you.
YESTERDAY I ACTED LIKE A JACKASS - by Robert Yoho MD (ret)
Author of Butchered by Healthcare, pharma, congress $5 on Kindle.
This story has been around for years, and I have read it multiple times, but it does me good to read it again today. Thank you.
Sorry for your loss. I’ll say a prayer for your father-in-law’s soul.
There should have been a Kleenex waring on this post.
About to call a dear friend with metastatic cancer that i’ve been estranged from, and I really needed to read this this morning to get my head straight before calling her. Because it’s about her, not me.
God works in mysterious ways. Thank you for playing your role.
****Because it’s about her, not me*****
Very wise comment....we should make decisions based on others’ needs, not just our own.
God bless
It’s okay to be sad, but i am joyful that i spoke with my friend for nearly two hours, focusing our conversation on her comfort and thoughts at this tragic end of life event. She is an ER doctor by profession, and a suffering cancer patient by twist of fate. She understands the ramifications and nuance of her total circumstance, which has made her ordeal all the more difficult. She said that while in hospital last week, she understood “what all the beeps mean.”
I have prayed much harder for her than i was remembering. Even with her impending demise, i heard her smile at something wry that i said. We get each other, and love each other. And I managed to tell her that in a solid voice without crying.
Your part helped me get the strength i needed.
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