I studied my reflection in the dressing room mirror. The black, polished cotton, Ralph Lauren A-line dress fit me well. I knew that it was the dress that I had come for. It was the one that I would wear as I wept on my mother’s shoulder while they placed his body in the ground.
I sat on the bench in the dressing room and sobbed softly over the faint sound of Muzak. I quickly composed myself and searched my purse for a tissue. I couldn’t find one, so I wiped my damp eyes with one of the dress rejects hanging from a hook.
When I stepped out of the small room and looked around the department store, it was shocking to me that the world was still turning. Old ladies were shopping in the Petite department for polyester pants with elastic waistbands. Children were hiding from their mothers beneath clothing racks. Despite the darkness and the sadness surrounding me in that very moment, life was going on for others. Didn’t they realize that a great man was gone?
I took my place in the lengthy line, and my phone began chiming with an email alert. I draped the black dress across my arm and opened the email.
It was from the funeral home- his obituary.
I battled the tears as I studied his photo- his gentle eyes and his warm smile. I remembered the feel of his mustache against my cheek as he kissed me and gave me away at my wedding years before. He had been there for me since my real father passed away- since I was just a little girl. My life would never be the same.
I knew that my name would be included in the survivor’s section, possibly as “god-daughter” or “someone special”, but the family had simply listed me as his daughter. My husband was his son-in-law, my kids were his grandchildren.
Before I could fall to my knees and sob into the black polished cotton, I was interrupted by a kind tone and a smiling face.
“How are you doing today?” the saleslady asked as I tucked my phone inside my purse and slid the dress across the counter to her.
“I’m fine,” I lied and attempted to smile.
She began complimenting the dress and talking about the clear blue skies and the warm temperatures.
I couldn’t form words to respond to her comments, but I wished that I could. I wished that I could thank her.
I wanted to thank her for her kindness. I wanted to tell her that I was going through a terrible loss at that moment- that I was riddled with emotion. Based on the gray at her temples and the crow’s feet around her eyes, I knew that she was probably familiar with my pain.
I wanted to tell her that I appreciated her smile, her warm words, her compassionate eyes. Although , for me, it might as well have been pouring rain and 24 degrees outside, I wanted to tell her that I welcomed her small talk about the weather.
I wanted to tell her that I’d been treated so rudely by a salesperson at that same store, only a week or two before, and that there was no way I could have handled that kind of insolence today. Her attitude, her kindheartedness, was just what I needed.
I wanted to tell her all of this, and I wanted to reach across the counter and hug her.
“Have a wonderful day,” she smiled and carefully handed the black dress to me.
“Thank you.”
So powerful and beautifully written! Sorry for your loss:(
I wonder if she knew somehow you needed that small talk and kindness. I’m so sorry for your loss.
You nailed grief here. I was sobbing. Great details.
Crap, you made me tear up. I’m so sorry for your loss! You are such a beautiful writer!
Sometimes the slightest thing can make someone’s day. I try and be kind to everyone I meet. Sure, I do not always succeed as I am only human but you never know when holding open a giving a smile, saying hello can make someone’s day who really needed it.
Sorry for your loss 🙁
Maybe next time you can thank her?
This piece made me feel so much emotion in a fresh way, even though I have experienced that kind of grief. I am sorry for your loss.
Oh my gosh. This post was exquisite. I am sorry for your loss.
I think she knew. And thank the Lord she acted on her knowledge. Praying for you and your family.
I loved the interaction with the saleslady. Very powerful.
Wonderful story telling. You have a gift for wrapping the reader up in the details and making us live them with you.
Ah… you have such gift of storytelling, my friend! I want to know if this if fiction or if this is truth. If it is truth, the ache in my heart is for you and that pain of loss that drowns us in moments just like these.
Thank God for people like the salesclerk. She was an angel at God’s calling…
Thank you all so much for the comments! Yes, this is true, but it isn’t a fresh wound. I lost my Godfather in Sept 2011. Since the anniversary of his passing is approaching, I’ve been thinking often of that day in the store, receiving the email and the saleslady’s kindness. I appreciate all of the feedback!
What a beautifully written post. I teared up. You captured the feeling of how everything keeps moving around you, but doesn’t feel like it should be…
This made me cry, remembering my own experience. Beautifully written. Thank you.
“Despite the darkness and the sadness surrounding me in that very moment, life was going on for others. Didn’t they realize that a great man was gone?” This is exactly how I felt when my Dad died. Beautifully put.
A good reminder that you never know how far a simple kindness can go or what it might mean to someone. Well done!
ooooooh my heart. 🙁 such a moving piece. big hugs to you.
I am soooo sorry for your lose. But I am very happy you found compassion at that store. We lost my father-in-law this summer, so I have an idea of how this really felt. It sucks, I know.
So sorry for your loss. Sometimes the mundane details are just what we need to gt thru the moment.
This is yet further confirmation that we really should be kinder than necessary every day, as much as possible. We never know who we might encounter and what they are going through at the moment, that they are working so hard to conceal.
Hugs and blessings as your approach the anniversary of the passing of someone so obviously special.
I’m so sorry for your loss Susannah. This is so beautifully written. I could picture it all and felt it along with you. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers.
So sorry for your loss. Your post brought tears to my eyes.
Beautifully written. Glad you experienced kindness on a day when you needed it most. So sorry you are hurting.
Beautifully written. I’m sorry about your loss.
Thank you!
You wrote exactly how grief feels. This is really, heartbreakingly, beautiful.
Yes… this is where I see your gift the most illuminated. Not in the pain- as breathtakingly beautiful and devastating as it is- but in your words that paint the grief so authentically and powerfully.
I ached for you through the entire thing…