RUDY’S ANGEL

Where’s mine??

RUDY’S ANGEL

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying
groceries. I wasn’t hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 37 years was
still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories.

Rudy often came with me and almost every time he’d pretend to go off and
look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I’d always spot him
walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands.

Rudy knew I loved yellow roses. With a heart filled with grief, I only
wanted to buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was
different since Rudy had passed on.

Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two.
Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered
how Rudy had loved his steak.

Suddenly a woman came beside me. She was blond, slim and lovely in a soft
green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped
them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back. She turned to go and
once again reached for the pack of steaks. She saw me watching her and she
smiled. “My husband loves T-bones, but honestly, at these prices, I don’t
know.”

I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. “My
husband passed away eight days ago,” I told her. Glancing at the package in
her hands, I fought to control the tremble in my voice. “Buy him the steaks.
And cherish every moment you have together.”

She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the
package in her basket and wheeled away.

I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy
products. There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy. A
quart, I finally decided and moved on to the ice cream section near the
front of the store. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream
cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the
front.

I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towards
me. In her arms she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I
had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blond hair as she
kept walking toward me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw
what she held and tears began misting in my eyes. “These are for you,” she
said and placed three beautiful long stemmed yellow roses in my arms. “When
you go through the line, they will know these are paid for.” She leaned over
and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then smiled again.

I wanted to tell her what she’d done, what the roses meant, but still unable
to speak, I watched as she walked away as tears clouded my vision. I looked
down at the beautiful roses nestled in the green tissue wrapping and found
it almost unreal. How did she know?

Suddenly the answer seemed so clear. I wasn’t alone. “Oh, Rudy, you haven’t
forgotten me, have you?” I whispered, with tears in my eyes. He was still
with me, and she was his angel.

Everyday be thankful for what you have and who you are.

– Author Unknown

thinking again

A STORY TO MAKE US THINK

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was
allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the
fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for
hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their
jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on
vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could
sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his room-mate all the things
he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his
world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the
world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and
swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young
lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand
old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be
seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on
the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque
scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing
by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his
mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive
words.

Then unexpectedly, a sinister thought entered his mind. Why should the other
man alone experience all the pleasures of seeing everything while he himself
never got to see anything? It didn’t seem fair.

At first thought the man felt ashamed. But as the days passed and he missed
seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him
sour. He began to brood and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be
by that window – that thought, and only that thought, now controlled his
life.

Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began
to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in
the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button
to call for help. Listening from across the room he never moved, never
pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running in. In less
than five minutes the coughing and choking stopped, along with that the
sound of breathing. Now there was only silence-deathly silence.

The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths.
When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened
and called the hospital attendants to take it away. As soon as it seemed
appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was
comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on
one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would
have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look
out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who
had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded
that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps
he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue. . . .

You can interpret the story in any way you like. But one moral stands out:
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own
situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is
doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have
that money can’t buy.

– Author Unknown

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