Ask for Directions

A few years ago, I was on a work trip on the Southern California coast. It was an early morning on what was to be a long day, but I yawned, stretched and tied my shoes, aching to get a walk along the rocky coast and envelop myself in the quiet that often accompanies sunrise. The morning was surprisingly brisk in my light windbreaker, but the sun and the surf were a welcome novelty amidst the abnormally frigid Colorado winter I was experiencing at home.

The trail was a little tricky, both to find and navigate. I’m always amazed at the lushness of the coastal greenery that obstinately survives on the rocky hillside. Trees pop out of the most inhospitable stone crevices; vines spiral effortlessly, a method to their madness, green and thorny and sometimes impassable.  I was both annoyed with the terrain and frustrated with myself, ever the person who gets lost in her closet. Convinced I was on the wrong path and desperate to get some shoreline solitude, I crossed paths with a middle-aged gentleman walking his frosty-faced dog and negotiating the same sandy path. He sported a baseball cap and eager smile, bundled in sweats and a coat to brace against the wind. There was a hint of fatigue within the brightness of his eyes.

I asked him if I was on the right path, but I kept my headphones in my ears, turning them off but hopeful it might give a nonverbal indication I wasn’t interested in chatting. Still, I found myself frozen, soles of my shoes planted firmly in the rocks and roots and sand, unable to move. Five minutes turned into 20, and I learned that five years ago this week, he lost the love of his life to cancer. He knew, the moment he held her hand in high school, that it would be the only hand he’d ever hold, and so it was for 40+ years.

We sat on the beach, tears involuntarily streaming down our salty faces, as he continued to talk to me about her–as if he wanted to stand on a rooftop and let everyone know the depth of her beautiful heart and the impact she had on the world around her. He told me about all the breadcrumbs she left him in her passing– little gifts he still finds from time to time. He found a note she had written herself about a beautiful day they’d spent together, a poem she had written him but not shown him–little pieces of her, unintended gifts that encapsulated the essence of who he was to her–an essence that still reverberated around him.

Surprisingly, he elatedly told me about her chemo therapy appointments, his eyes and hands as animated as one can be while still holding a leash. She had survived for so long that she knew the ins and outs of the process, both physical and mental. At every appointment, she would sit with a new patient, gracefully conjuring up a conversation and providing comfort, lighting up what would normally be a very dark place. He said, “I never took her for granted for a second, but I sure didn’t realize the magnitude of her being gone.”

I got my serenity that morning, but it was in a much different, more beautiful package than I could have ever anticipated. Thank you, sweet Sir, for sharing your love of a lifetime with me.