We didn’t do the dump run this week until Sunday morning. Afterwards we stopped at the supermarket, because inevitably no matter how many lists I take with me, I always forget something. In the course of three days, this was probably the fifth or sixth time I had been in there. So I asked Dad if it would be alright for me to just run in and get what I needed. He didn’t have a problem with that (I think he was just happy to be out of the house). I went in, grabbed what I needed to get and headed for the checkout. Without knowing my name, everyone there knows me now, just like they know Dad. The woman at the register asked me, “No Dad today?” I laughed, wondering if they get nervous when we come in, because there have been a couple of occasions when there’s been a close call as Dad is turning an aisle (luckily he hasn’t knocked anything over). I replied, “He’s actually sitting in the car right now. I said I was going to run in real quick and grab a couple of things.” She laughed and then said to me, “Well, I have to tell you I just recently lost my father and you and your Dad put a smile on my face every time I see the two of you in here. It’s something my sister and I would have done with and for our father.” And boom, just like that my heart sank just a little, filled with empathy for her loss. We chatted for a few moments about her dad, who he was, what he was like. I love to hear stories about people’s lives. Eventually I left and when I got back into the car, related the story to Dad. For such a brief encounter it was very humbling for me. I don’t think about what I do for or with either of my parents, so I am constantly caught off guard when someone mentions it, acknowledges it. I just do it, as I argue any of you would do for your parents, siblings, loved ones, the people you cherish in your life. I’m no different than you. And hey, if I can put a smile on your face, well it doesn't get any better than that.
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