Someone died. So someone is crying. It doesn’t matter who…all tears look the same. Country, culture or religion death is impartial. One Wednesday afternoon, I was downtown shopping and I met a man who I didn’t know. Later, I would find out that his girlfriend passed away a few months ago and he just can’t cope. He’s been drunk for almost 85 days now. The depth of his despair is resting six feet under. He is lost. He is the living dead.
But you see, I didn’t know any of this till I saw him fall from his wheelchair onto a major downtown street. I panicked and screamed a little. About six of his friends rushed over, picked him up, put him back in his chair and wheeled him onto the side-walk. At that precise moment, I had a vision of two dimensions my world and realm of the homeless. But, as a fellow human being, life has taught me how to recognize pain.
About 30 minutes earlier, a lady stopped me and asked for some lunch. Wrong day for a favor! You see I forgot my debit card. I told her that I would be back…I needed time to think. So I asked a woman in one of the local restaurants to help me help someone. As I came around the corner with lunch in hand, the woman was still sitting on the hot sidewalk with her friends. She clutched her chest and yelled,
“You remembered me!”
I replied, “I promised you that I was coming back.”
Holding back tears, “Everyone always says they’re coming back and never do.”
I felt her pain. It felt just like mine. I was humbled.
It was about that time that the gentleman fell out of his wheelchair. So I asked her what’s wrong with him. She said, “His girlfriend died in March and he can’t live without her. She was his everything.” It hurts me to know that some people will walk right by him and mutter something negative about him not having anything. And, unfortunately they are right cause deep down inside of him he lost everything…it’s just cause you can’t see it.