Conversation on a Bench

I’m down at M.D. Anderson this week for scans and doctor visits to figure out our path forward. Nothing to report yet on that, but will share an update when we have one.

I keep returning to an experience from last week, right after I had my chemo infusion. The drugs mess with my head enough that it’s probably not the best idea to drive, so Stacey usually picks me up for the ride home. I’m now one more person in our house, in addition to our kids, in need of transport to stuff! (We’ve had some great help from family, friends and neighbors on the rides.)

On this day, Stacey was going to be late due to shuttling kids to/from various things. With an hour of time after the infusion, I went outside and found a bench that was getting some afternoon sun. As I was sitting there, an older woman approached and sat on the bench, and we exchanged hellos. I would eventually learn that her name was Mrs. Johnson. 

The afternoon sun was getting a little bright, and Mrs. Johnson commented that she was going to slide over towards me so as to position a column between her and the blinding sun. She was waiting on the city shuttle service to come get her - she had stopped driving three years prior at the young age of 90! Macular degeneration had diminished her sight to the point driving wasn’t safe. I came to find out she had just visited a doctor’s office in the building to get her hearing aid fixed. 

Mrs. Johnson said she at one point had a bucket list that she had been working through, though now, at age 93, she recognized her bucket had a bunch of holes in it. As she was sharing, it was easy to recognize and appreciate Mrs. Johnson’s well-earned wisdom. And she just had this powerful kindness to her - the giveaway was her easy grin and her eyes.

In the course of an hour-long conversation, while we both awaited our rides, we learned quite a bit about one another. It was like getting lost in a good novel as she shared the ups and downs of her life. A husband who had died 15+ years ago. Three kids. A bunch of grandkids. A growing number of great-grandkids. 30 years working in the Texas legislature. Big holiday gatherings of family with 25+ people. Traveling on her own and with friends in her eighties. Two experiences with breast cancer. Caring for a daughter with terminal brain cancer. Her love for and connection to all those family members.

All through this, with the way the sun was moving in the afternoon sky, she kept needing to inch over towards me to keep the sun out of her face, to the point we were shoulder to shoulder on one end of the bench. 

It was clear Mrs. Johnson had lived. And she was really comfortable with the idea of death. As she said, “I’m not too excited about the dying part, but I’m at peace with death.” We talked about faith and what carries us through the hard times.

The hour flew by. As her ride pulled up, we shared farewells and our deep appreciation for the conversation. She flashed that grin again. 

It was the conversation I didn’t know I needed until it literally landed right next to me. I'm glad I didn't go down the well-worn path of being frustrated with having to wait. I’m grateful I was open to the moment and didn’t let it pass me by. It felt like, and still feels like, a visit from an angel. 

I can see my Mom in Mrs. Johnson’s stories of faith and family. I can know my Grandad (with his macular degeneration) in her steadfast journey into old age. I can hear my Grandmother as Mrs. Johnson laughed her way through stories. I can understand and soak in the strength and wisdom of friends and family lost to cancer through listening to Mrs. Johnson’s own experiences with cancer. 

As I’ve mentioned a bunch previously, I’m ridiculously grateful for the community that has surrounded and lifted us during hard times. Time on the bench next to Mrs. Johnson reminded me that there is a whole host of others…known and unknown…alive and dead…traveling right alongside each of us through good and bad. Maybe it’s just a matter of noticing them…