Brief Moments

A couple of weeks ago as I was driving home from work, I passed an elderly lady with a walker trying to pick up her tipped-over trash dumpster at the curb. Because of traffic, I couldn’t stop. So at the next intersection, I turned around and went back to help her – I just had to. I felt something pulling at my heart strings.

I approached her and asked if I could help her. She was so grateful, and I walked up to the house with her, the dumpster in hand. She told me that she’d fallen last year and that she’d always have to have a walker now, which makes even small chores difficult. She told me that she was 86. I shared with her that my mother is 57 and uses a walker, so I understood what she meant. She was a darling woman – small in frame, thin white hair, wearing white keds. She reminded me so much of my great-grandmother, whom I adored. After 10 or so minutes, I told her I had to get home to my kids, and she reached out and shook my hand to thank me. She then went in and sat in her chair, and waved goodbye as I walked down the driveway.

Every time I pass by her house, I think of those brief moments we shared and wonder how she is doing. Today as I came back to work from lunch, paramedics were bringing her out on a stretcher. I only saw them coming out of the house – I couldn’t tell what was wrong. But I also noticed a police car coming towards the house and can’t help but wonder if she had passed away.

I offer up a prayer for her today, and for all those who need someone to lend a helping hand. We take for granted things like taking out the trash and bending over to pick something up when others struggle with the smallest chore. She reminded me of this. I was lucky to share a few brief moments with her, and I will forever be grateful.