Over a cup of joe ...

Coffee made with Love
Originally uploaded by d1andonlykar1
It is a rare and cherished thing for me to have a weekend that is plans-free. A Saturday in which I could move in whatever direction I wanted, including not moving at all.

After taking a long, luxurious bath in the mid-afternoon I decided that I would take my squeaky-clean self to my favorite coffeeshop and enjoy the company of others incognito behind a newspaper. As I found a spot for myself close to the window of the cafe, my eyes were met by those of a man, roughly in his 60's. There was a sadness in them that felt familiar to me. I asked him how he was doing and he said "Not so good." I knew that this was a door he swung partially open in hopes to have connection. This very "manly man" (barrel-chested, full white beard) told me how he was missing his wife today, who died in January of a rare leukemia. His eyes welled up and he tried to brush quickly past what was happening in front of this stranger at the table next to him. All I said was "I understand." And he proceeded to tell me all about the procedures, their hopes when she went into remission, her rapid deterioration. He wondered if there was an end to grief and I shared with him that I felt like it was a continuous cycle that waxed and waned, drawing upon my own experiences of loss. He told me about her oil paintings and how he was going to make t-shirts with one of the images from his favorite painting of hers and give them out to all who knew her as Christmas presents this year. He beamed with love as he shared this. He spoke of how his missing her hits him at the oddest of times, with no rhyme or reason. Like in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery store. And how the tears just come.

He went on to tell me a host of other things too and I had this sense that he hadn't spoke to anyone in awhile and was thankful to have a set of ears to listen. And it was just as good for me. I deeply appreciated the company and the intimate conversation. I no longer had a need to get lost in a newspaper. Or to forget my own bouts of loneliness. I am always amazed at what is possible when we are awake to the presence of another human being. And equally disheartened at all the near-misses of ignoring the countless others.

Funny thing is this: I almost by-passed him because of first impressions. I saw the "McCain" presidential button on his baseball cap and immediately judged him for his open Republican-ness and assumed we'd have nothing to say to one another. It turns out this guy and I are alumni of the same university. And he swims at the pool on campus where I now teach. And he's interested in metaphysics and Buddhism.

And, more importantly, he was looking for company so that he would not feel his aloneness today. Me too.