I don't usually engage with guests more than I have to. In fact, I skip the polite "how are you, how's your day been?" bullshit chit chat at check-in because 1) I don't care, 2) it shows, and 3) I'm at least respectful enough to not waste guests' time. I pride myself on my speed and efficiency at check-in, not my conversational skills.
Somehow, and I honestly don't even remember how, this man snuck into my life.
I couldn't tell you the first time I met him, or the first conversation I had with him, or the first time that I stopped thinking of him as a nuisance and started treating him like a friend, but along the way this kind, gentle, thoughtful man got under my skin and made me care.
I knew this day was coming, I had heard from his brother 11 days ago that there was emergency cardiac surgery and it didn't look good. The brother said to assume the worst if I never heard back from him. I never heard back from him.
The days passed and I held out hope that maybe I missed the phone call, or maybe they were busy and forgot to place the call, or maybe someone else had intercepted the message. Still, I checked the obituaries because my heart knew. I'm not going to lie to you, I've known all along. But this morning I got the confirmation and it broke my heart.
Three days before his passing I was chatting with him about school and my family and his family and his treatments at the hospital. He was still having problems sleeping, but he got to babysit his grandkids and there would be no wiping that smile off his face. Even with the recency of the conversation, I cannot remember the last words he said to me, but I do remember how alive he looked when he told me what he did with his weekend and how happy he was to have the time to see his son Pat.
I'm a hot ass mess crying here at work. He was a good man and I am sad.
Yesterday would have been his 71st birthday, not that I knew that before today. He was never one to put attention on himself. I'd like to imagine that if there really is a heaven, it would be made for people like him: uncommonly kind, patient, gentle, and extraordinarily selfless. And maybe now he's finally getting to sleep peacefully.
No comments:
Post a Comment