Wednesday, February 2, 2011
FEBRUARY- "Imagine all the people we brush paths with and never know a thing about them."
It was the worst day of my life. One morning while out of town for the weekend, I got a phone call with the news that my 19-year old son had died in a fire while away at college. Still in shock a few hours later, my husband and I boarded a plane to go back home.
I walked shakily down the aisle looking for seats near the front, as I thought my queasy stomach couldn't take riding in the back. The only open seats were with a woman who sat huddled under a blanket by the window. Briefly thinking, "I hope she isn't sick, that's the last thing we need" I sat down beside her, with my husband on the aisle.
The flight seemed to last forever. Finally, the plane started its descent and through my haze of fear, shock and anxiety (sadness would come later) I must have said something to my husband about courage, and needing to be strong or something to that effect. In a moment the woman said to me, "Excuse me, I'm so sorry to ask, but have you just lost someone?" I said, "Yes, my son." Her eyes widened, and she said, "My son died last night too, and I'm just now going home." We fell into each others arms. Our sons were only a year apart in age, and had died within hours of each other. We kept in touch for a long time, and both of us felt our sons had directed us to meet on that awful day.
We easily could have gotten off of that plane never knowing what the other was going through. There were many more instances after my son's death where I felt some kind of divine support and comfort, and this was just the beginning. Imagine all the people we brush paths with and never know a thing about them.
Anonymous
Austin, Texas
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