Sharing the tears

Jeff Bates received this email from his friend Ann, in Seattle, and shared it with us. Ann writes,

Hello everyone,

I've thought about sharing this or not .. and finally realized that I just cannot NOT share it.

This past Saturday, I got in my car with my dog Alex to drive to my boat at the Des Moines Marina to work on my boat. I never did even get to my boat. Once I arrived at the marina, the sun was shining and warm, so I took Alex for a walk knowing that, this time of year, in an hour or two, it could be raining cats and dogs and a walk would be pretty crappy, so a walk was needed NOW.

So we walked around the marina grounds and then to the north end of the marina where there's a park and a fishing pier and a large parking lot. Lots of folks fish off that pier and lots of folks sit in their parked cars or walk around and simply enjoy the view of Puget Sound and the park and the pier and the extraordinary peace and view there.

But this past Saturday was different. My dog Alex and I walked toward the fishing pier and passed one particular car that had a very elderly Japanese couple in it. I remember making eye contact with one or the other of the occupants (both obviously crying) and then I quickly moved on .. not wanting to embarrass them or me. But only a few feet later, I realized that they wouldn't be here .. out in the open, in public .. if they were embarrassed .. and that it was mostly me who was embarrassed. And my heart just stopped. And I hung my head.

I turned and walked back towards the car and made very purposeful eye contact with the two elderly people in the car, difficult as that was for me. They were crying so hard. But they both looked right at me. And as soon as we surely made eye contact, I stopped and started crying too .. right there in the parking lot. For a fraction of a second, I was embarrassed again, but then I didn't care about being embarrassed. I just cried. I stood there a moment and then walked to the car and laid my hand on the car's hood and just stood there, looking out across the salt water of Puget Sound. They knew I was there and they knew I was crying. Fairly quickly, the woman opened the passenger window and held out her very small hand to me .. I went to the window and knelt down and held her hand (and she held mine) and all three of us cried. He reached over and touched her so that all three of us were touching.

There were no words. We just cried. Really big tears. Together.

And we looked out over the salt water of Puget Sound knowing that these waters move north and then turn left at the Strait of Juan de Fuca and then flow to Japan .. that all of these molecules of water touch each other. Even in the parking lot at Des Moines, Washington, we knew we were looking right at Japan. And we cried.

Eventually, I got up and let go of her hand, and she of mine. With my hands pressed together, I bowed deeply to them. They exclaimed and said words I didn't understand but that I think I do understand. I said "God bless you" and they said words to me that surely meant the same.

I hope their sadness and loss is a bit less .. or that, with shared human compassion, it is a bit more bearable. I can't imagine losing family with so much tragedy when you're so far from home.

Tho I may never see these people again, they are my family.

Ann

Image: The Great Wave off Kanagawa is a classic woodblock print by artist Katsushika Hokusai, from the Edo period (ca. 1830).