Kindness in Isle 5

When you live in a small town, everyday people can begin to seem sort of folk hero-ish.  Locally famous because we all know who they are – we don’t call acknowledge them as celebs or treat them as such.  Then one day one of them dies and you find yourself in a strange state of disbelief and mourning, like when Anna Nicole Smith died.

 

There was this guy, Jamie, who was a cashier at the grocery store.  He was the nicest guy.   Every time you came in, he would chat with you, or laugh at how cute your kids were.  On many days when my kids were young, he was quite possibly my only source of adult human contact, standing there at the check-out.  Jamie was good with that. He was always in a good mood without being annoyingly cheerful.  He had the right balance of being personable, without slowing you down or irritating the people behind you.

 

The bad thing was he was extremely obese.  He was so huge he sort of struggled to maneuver in his little cashier space.  He had a beard and big glasses, which gave his size a friendly, Santa-like effect. My friend Laura got to know him a little more than the rest of us.  She knew his name (which is how I learned it unfortunately, posthumously) and she was the one who called me to tell me he had died suddenly in his sleep. I was shocked. I know I was just at the store the day before he died…in his isle (always – his isle).  I am haunted by the thought that I was there in front of him on his last day of life. Was I in a hurry?  Did I chat with him or did I rush on through, scolding my kids for begging for gum?  I feel a loss every time I go in the store now.  I truly miss him being there. I’m mad that he died, yet I didn’t even know his name.

 

They posted his obit near the customer service desk.  It was cut out from the local paper and sitting next to the lottery tickets in a little plastic stand. It was such a small tribute for such a big man.

 

I didn’t go to the funeral, though I really did think about it.  Instead, I’ve decided to pay respects in my own personal way.  In his honor, I’ve decided to be kind in the checkout lane…like he was to me. It’s like a little thing but trust me, it will be an effort.

 

In memory of Jamie, I will not roll my eyes. I will not make obvious gestures to look at my watch.  I will not sigh loudly.  When I see someone leisurely pull out a check book in the express line (hello — EXPRESS) after the debatable 15 items have been bagged (P.S- yogurt does not count as one item, when you buy SIX varieties), I will not mutter angrily and stomp over to another lane.  I will be kind.  I will remember that even the smallest moments of human contact can have an impact…that one little gesture of kindness can change the current of a whole day.  

 

Mother Theresa once said “Kind words can be easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless”. Thank you, Jamie – for your kind words and endless echoes.