A stranger’s small act of kindness provides ray of light in dark days of coronavirus

It was a moment of kindness by a stranger. It also was a stark reminder that there are still candles of light and cradles of hope in a world currently drowned in darkness and despair.

At least, that’s the way it felt to me.

I was at the cemetery to change the flowers in the vase at my wife’s resting place. Two elderly women were sitting in the same area. We had never met before. I planned to go inside to cut the flowers to size and get water as I have done since my beloved Bea passed away. But the door was locked.

So, I stood yards away from the women to prepare the flowers, respecting their privacy and keeping my social distance. Then, as I turned around, one of the women approached me with an unopened bottle of water for my flowers,

She didn’t speak. She just handed me the bottle and walked away as I said: “Thank you.”

Yes, in our moments of grieving, for a few brief seconds we violated the social distancing directive, she out of compassion, me out of gratitude for what was in her heart. Scold us if you want. I believe it was a portrait of the humanity that is being magnified millions of times each day around the world.

That kind lady had no way of knowing that the grief soaking my soul was deeper than ever because I had recently returned from my younger brother’s funeral, the last of my nine siblings. No way of knowing that her bottle of water washed away some of my inner tears.

My brother Pat and I were separated by five years in age. As life went on, we were also separated by thousands of miles. Our visits were much too few and far between. But the bond we struck growing up and the memories we etched for all the tomorrows will never be erased.

By birth, we become siblings. But it is with love that we become brothers and sisters. And that’s why it hurts so much when we lose them.

That kind lady also probably didn’t realize that her act of compassion for someone she didn’t know and will probably never see again is being magnified across the land today as we face this cruel coronavirus, which threatens lives and livelihoods for millions of our neighbors.

Health care providers, firefighters, police, first responders everywhere, grocery store workers and many more are risking their own health to care for others. Friends are asking if they can bring groceries or meals or medicine. Teachers are teaching from their homes and students are learning online.

Just as it was after 9/11, there will be a new normal when we finally flatten that curve and the virus is defeated. But we really have no idea when that will transpire. What we have is hope.

In the new normal will we still be swimming in the pool of discord and distrust that we have been swimming in for the past several years? Will our political environment be as mean-spirited as it has been?

Will social media continue to widen our cultural and racial divisions? Will we exist in a state of anxiety instead of one of optimism? Will we continue to taunt each other across the self-painted lines of division? Will we continue to be roused from our sleep by the echoes of violence in our streets?

And there will be so many more questions for us to answer.

In November, we will have the opportunity to help answer those questions when we choose many of our leaders at every level.

Will we choose those who will light candles of light to erase the darkness?

Will we choose those who will fill cradles with hope to erase our fears?

Will we choose those who would take a moment to give us a bottle of water for our flowers?