When I drove to Seattle last year, I unexpectedly found myself turning into a rest stop. I worry (unnecessarily, perhaps) about my car not starting up if I stop along the road, so I never visit rest areas when I drive. Although my Bug is reliable, it’s . . . not new. I figure it’s better to wait until the next fuel station in case there is a problem. But something seemed to pull me into that rest stop. I walked aimlessly around for a bit, not sure what I’d expected to find, and then returned to my car. When I got back to the parking lot, a big wind came up, and the door of the car next to mine flew open and dented and scraped the paint on the fender of my newly restored Bug. An old lady sat there, just staring at me, as if I were the one in the wrong. “It was the wind,” she said. And it probably was since she seemed too frail to have held the door, but I wanted more of an acknowledgement of the damage than that.
A younger woman came, entered the old woman’s car, and started it. I stood behind their vehicle so they couldn’t drive away. I’m not sure what I wanted, but I wanted . . . something. Soon the younger woman got out of the car and told her mother was sorry, that their insurance would pay for it. The old woman started to cry, which made me feel bad for being so stubborn about the situation. I told her it is was okay, that I didn’t expect them to pay for the damage. Then younger woman explained that the tears weren’t just about my car, but that her father (the old woman’s husband) had just died, and she was trying to give her mother a little vacation.
Oh, my, that broke my heart. I hugged both women, comforted them, and then, before I drove away, I told the daughter that her mother would mourn a lot longer than she would, and please be patient with her. I cautioned her not tell her mother to move on or get over it. She thanked me. I hugged both women again, refused to take their insurance information, and said that every time I saw the dent, I’d think of them. And I do.
I often think about these women, and not only when I see the dent. I’ve never known what to make of this incident. I’m not a big believer in fate, but it makes me wonder if sometimes things happen to benefit not us, but someone else. Maybe fate needed me to be there. Or maybe the woman’s grief called to me.
I don’t have the answer, but I still have the dent.
***
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.
Bertram's Blog 
January 21, 2019 at 5:13 am
That was very sweet of you!! Hope the damage to your bug is small.
January 21, 2019 at 12:52 pm
Out of nearly 7 billion people in the world and many more locations, it was no accident. God arranges ways and places for us to help one another and you did a great job of it. And btw, don’t be afraid of rest stops. Hubby and I have been full-time RVing 19 years and have never known anyone who had an incident at a rest stop. Of course, it can happen, but I consider them very friendly and safe places to take a break. Blessings. Deb
January 22, 2019 at 3:44 pm
Thanks, Deb. Actually, I like rest stops, I just worry that something might happen to my car and I’d be far from help. Come to think of it, something did happen to my car! Luckily the damage was minor.
January 23, 2019 at 11:08 am
That was awfully kind of you. I had a similar situation where someone boxed me in at a parking lot, and I couldn’t get out. I sat in my car steaming for about 15 minutes when the owners of the other car finally returned. They were both very old, and one of them had her head all bandaged up at the urgent care clinic in the same shopping center. Of course, I held my tongue… and waited for them to pull away. Sometimes you have to find humanity. – Marty
January 23, 2019 at 12:02 pm
I like that — “sometimes you have to find humanity.” Words to live by!