No Title for this One

Yesterday I had to mail a large envelope and also buy some stamps. I stood in line at the post office, idly observing the clothes and shoes and mannerisms of all the other people who were waiting, when I happened to notice a man whose arm was in a sling. It brought back a memory that, within thirty seconds, had me close to tears, sternly telling myself to get a grip before my turn at the window came.

What I had thought of was this: in 1990, during my first pregnancy, I had a job that required me to go to the post office daily and handle the company's mail. Every day I stood in line, and when my turn came, I exchanged pleasantries with a friendly, kind-faced man named Gary. He never knew my name, but we always chatted a bit. Towards the end of my nine months, the conversation centered around my due date and how I was looking and feeling. Whether I was tired. Whether I was ready.

There came a day when I didn't show up at the post office, and I guess, if I crossed Gary's mind at all, he would have assumed I was on maternity leave. But then after several weeks I appeared again, with a non-pregnant belly and my arm in a cast and a sling. Gary, bless him forever, was cautious in his friendliness. "What in the world happened to you?" he asked.

"Car accident," I whispered.

His face was concerned. I knew he was wondering about the baby, but I could tell he wanted to phrase it carefully. "Everybody all right?" he asked.

My eyes got wet, and I could only shake my head. No.

"I'm sorry," he said. And then he took care of my mail.

I remember, too, a lady who had owned the convenience store nearest to my home in 1990. Sometime shortly after the accident, I ran into her in the back corner of a grocery store. She was Asian and her English was poor, but she asked me excitedly, "Where your baby?"

Euphemisms don't always translate well, I didn't know whether she would understand me if I said that we lost him, or he passed away. I had to stand in the grocery store and try to explain that he had died, and then the lady and I just looked at each other, neither one having the vocabulary to continue.

There's no moral or tidy ending here. Except maybe I should say thank you to Gary for not needing the details, and thank you to the convenience store lady for caring, and thanks to all the other random people like Sherry the hairdresser who put their arms around me and said, "I'm sorry about your baby," when there was nothing else to say. Eighteen years now, and I haven't forgotten any of you.


****AMAZING UPDATE TO THIS POST: I'M WRITING THIS ON JUNE 9TH. JUST HAD TO SHARE WITH ANYBODY READING THE ABOVE POST THAT YESTERDAY, OUTSIDE OF TARGET, WHO SHOULD I RUN INTO BUT GARY FROM THE POST OFFICE!!! AFTER 18 YEARS OF NEVER SEEING HIM, THERE HE WAS. NOW I HAVE CHANGED A LOT BETWEEN THE AGES OF 25 AND 43 BUT HE INSTANTLY RECOGNIZED ME AND SPOKE. I TOLD HIM WHAT A COINCIDENCE IT WAS THAT I HAD JUST HAD HIM ON MY MIND RECENTLY, AND I REMINDED HIM OF MY STORY (THOUGH I NEARLY BAWLED DOING IT) BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I COULD SEE HE RECOGNIZED MY FACE, I DIDN'T KNOW IF HE'D REMEMBER THE REST. BUT HE DID REMEMBER, AND SO DID HIS WIFE WHO WAS WITH HIM. HE HAD GONE HOME AND TOLD HER ABOUT ME, AND PRAYED FOR ME, HE SAID. I THANKED HIM IN PERSON FOR PUTTING KINDNESS AND COMPASSION AHEAD OF HIS OWN CURIOSITY. I TOLD HIM I HAD TWO CHILDREN NOW AND ALL WAS WELL, AND HE GAVE ME A HUG. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT??!!