As I write this, I am flying between San Jose and Atlanta. Both the bag check and security check lines were unusually long this morning, providing me with ample time for people watching. So many different people exist in this world, and each one has his own story. As I stood there, I had no idea what anyone was thinking…what his/her current joys or sorrows might be. Unless, of course, someone was to engage me in conversation.
The man in front of me in the bag check line appeared to be
sixty-ish. He was neatly dressed and had
a mustache that twirled up on the ends into a point. He had a couple of pieces
of luggage and a brown paper sack. As I
entered the line and stood behind him, he said, “Do you fly much?”
I told him that I flew 3-4 times a year, although I was
thinking that the number of times I fly could now be different with my husband
gone. Will I fly more or less? I didn’t say all that. It just passed quickly through my thoughts.
He said that I at least flew more than he did. He wondered if I could tell him if he was in
the correct line. Did he have to go to
the counter, even though he had checked in online? Well, yes, he did, since he needed to drop
off the bags he was planning to check.
Thus began an interesting chat during which I discovered he
had lost his wife about a month before I lost Bill. She had had breast cancer four years earlier,
but then learned it had spread. She was
in pain and had difficulty breathing.
Eventually, she had hospice care.
He had not understood that meant there was nothing more that could be
done. Her loss has caused him much grief. He had to move her picture from the
hall. He couldn’t bear to look at it as
frequently as he passed it.
He talked about the happiness she brought into his life. There were ways in which they were very
different and other ways in which they shared interests for the 36 years of
their marriage and the two years before that when they knew each other.
I totally understood.
By this time, we were called to the counter and I could not
delve any further into whether he or she knew Jesus or had the comfort He
provides. I looked for him in the TSA
line and later at the gate. I didn’t see
him until we were in the boarding process, and then it was at a distance. Perhaps, all I was assigned to do was to
offer my sympathy and understanding.
I don’t know his name, but I pray the man with the twirly
mustache I met in the bag check line will come to know the peace only God can
give.
Later….in my second flight of the day, I sat next to a young
woman who was not very communicative.
She dozed or listened to music, so conversation was non-existent….
except as we landed. It turned out she
was a widow with young children. She
lost her husband 8 years ago when the kids were 2 and 4. Her mother-in-law is an enormous help.
So much pain and loss in this world, and I understand it so
deeply.