Last September was the one-year anniversary of my husband’s death. I was 27 years old, by myself at around 9 AM and was facing a 1.5-hour-long drive from the town I lived to his grave and was at a Food City to buy a single white rose (the symbol of remembrance) to lay on his grave.
While I was in the floral department, I started breaking down a bit when the florist complimented my necklace, which my husband had given to me while we were dating as teenagers. I managed not to bawl in front of her, paid for my rose (which she had wrapped in very lovely paper) and walked back out to my car, where I sat for a minute or so in order to cry and compose myself a bit before heading out.
All of a sudden, an older woman (my guess was late-50’s) walked up to my car and knocked on my window. I had never seen this woman before, but I opened my door to her anyway (my car’s window did not roll down).
She introduced herself and told me that she had been behind me at the floral counter and had asked the florist about me (I can’t remember why exactly she asked) and she said that “something” had told her that she needed to know more about why I was there and buying what I was buying.
So, I broke down and told her, and she hugged me and cried along with me. She then ran back to her car and came back with a $20 bill and a loaf of bread from her grocery cart.
She didn’t know it, but I had a long way to go, and even though I had a job and all of that, $20 still filled up my gas tank and really helped me make that long trip. The bread was wonderful, as well – I wasn’t starving, but it was a rare thing for me to eat anything other than what I could get at work (McDonald’s).
I really honestly couldn’t say anything other than “Thank you” and “I will” when she told me to drive safely and to take care of myself.
I haven’t seen her since, but I really hope she knows how much I appreciated the sympathy from a complete stranger.
~ by Mollywobbles225
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