Covid Times-April 2020
It was April 2020, and I was standing in a dollar store checkout line in Washington when a frail old man, who looked to be in his late 70s, came around from the next aisle over. His hobble, as he pushed his buggy, was similar to my dad's. I backed up and said, "You can go ahead of me.
I nodded and we spoke a few words through our face masks. He slowly pushed his cart up to the red line on the floor in front of us, all while he leaned on his cane. The line was there so customers could stay 6 feet apart from one another, as recommended by the Center for Disease Control during the Covid-19 pandemic. His apparent aches and pains were obvious. I knew he might want to leave the store faster than I did because he was more susceptible to getting the virus due to age. And during this time many people like myself wanted to get in and get out of the store out of fear of getting the virus. I stood there and thought about my dad, who had passed away 9 months previously (before the virus showed up), and who, at the same age, had a hard time standing for long periods because of arthritis. It made sense to let the man check out before me.
While we waited for the woman in front of us to check out, I could not help but watch the man. He reached for the batteries on the rack next to him, mumbling something to himself. He took a small bag of peanuts off the shelf and put them in his cart. I wondered what his life was like at home. What was his story? Did he have someone to help him? Was he lonely? Maybe he's scared. Assuming he didn't have anyone, I teared up. But maybe he's okay, I reminded myself.
Images of my piano-playing-silly-at-times dad, whom I had greatly missed, came on strong. The longer the man was in front of me, the more I thought about my dad. They were similar in the way they stood; both had a cane, gray hair, and a heavy dark coat. I thought about asking "Is everything okay?", "Do you need help with anything?". But I know some people are very independent and private no matter their age. At least my was. I didn't want to be told "It's none of your business," either. I didn't want to impose and maybe he didn't want to be bothered. Yet I was concerned, for reasons that a deadly virus was killing hundreds of people every day. He moved from the counter and I moved closer to the register, still keeping 6 feet apart. When he turned and left all I wanted to do was pay for my items and get to my vehicle as quick as possible. I needed to cry, alone. Watching him leave made me greatly long for my dad. In a way felt a strange love for the old man I did not know. I hoped he would be okay as I watched him pull away.
I sat in my driver's seat, thinking about the importance of empathy. We are surrounded by people who look like us, act like us, are hurt like us, and are scared like us. Some of them have no family, and some have a family but still feel alone. People are happy, and unhappy, for a variety of reasons. We all have a back story. Maybe the way to get to a kinder society is by being more observant, compassionate, understanding, sympathetic, accepting, and loving. Kindness is known to create a sense of belonging and can be an antidote for seclusion; observation lets us see and feel unforeseen things around us; Love is a powerful and uplifting force, and can be found, and felt, in the most unexpected places.
"Empathy has no script. There is no right or wrong way to do it. It's simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of 'You're not alone.'" -BRENÉ BROWN
