Things we forget

Two days ago I was standing on the beach watching my son play in the water. We had just spent a couple of hours exploring the tide pools and just having fun. There was an elderly man throwing a ball for his dog. The dog was vibrant, full of energy and very enthusiastic. The dog came and wanted to play with me and I asked the owner if it was okay. He said yes and with that I had a new friend.

I threw the ball several times for the dog and then threw the ball back to the owner. The owner and I started making small talk about the dog, the weather etc. Soon the man seemed to want to do more then just make small talk. He started getting more detailed and talking on a deeper level.

During the conversation the man started relating details of his life to me. His wife had passed away less then a year ago. They were in the middle of building a house together near the beach. The dog belonged to both of them and she had loved this dog, a three year old Black Lab mix. They would both take the dog to the beach and play for hours.

His wife had commented on several occasions how she wished she could have one tenth of the dogs energy at her age. The man said that age and medical problems had stolen a lot of vibrancy and youth from his wife but she somehow seemed more agile and younger when she was with the dog. He looked at the dog at this point and smiled. I am sure he was recalling a memory of his wife. He stayed there with his thoughts for a moment and I did not intrude.

By this point in the conversation I was just nodding and maybe agreeing with him here and there, just to keep the flow of the conversation going. I did not want to interject anything of my own. This moment was obviously dedicated to the memory of someone I had never even met but was getting a glimpse into her life. It had become more of a narrative about him and his wife and the life they shared. About the happiness and good times he missed so much. It had become a very touching story about the best friend he lost.

He never broke stride as he spoke and continued to throw the ball for his dog. He seemed unable or unwilling to stop throwing the ball. The dog didn't mind but I think he was just afraid to break that cycle. This was a way for him to be with his wife, his best friend, even for just a fleeting minute or two in the haze of ocean mist. The dog would go and chase the ball and come back and leave again. This man was looking out over the water as he spoke mostly. I am sure he was seeing her just as beautiful as the day they met.

The magic had been broken, his gaze drifted back from the ocean and after a bit the conversation slowed down. He told me bits of information about the dog again. He told me how he was on this beach at the same time every day. He told me I could come here and talk to him again if I wanted. He told me about the colors of the rooms in the house. He told me why she had picked each color. We again fell into the polite and cordial surface level conversation shared by strangers who chance to meet while on the beach.

I said my goodbyes and turned to leave. I am a person who usually keeps a fair amount of personal distance between myself and others. This man reached out and grabbed my shoulder as I turned to leave and some how it didn't bother me in the least. It was a natural thing for him to do and I understood. With tears in his eyes he said "thanks for listening to an old man, I try to forget how lonely I am". I shook his hand and assured him I was grateful that he shared his life with me and then I left.

I am sure I will go look for him again. I am sure a friendship will develop out of this and if it doesn't, I am sure I have met this man for some reason. I have a responsibility to allow things to play out and figure out why.

Now, back to the title, Things We Forget. I forget that a small amount of kindness is all most of us are looking for. I sometimes forget that the sad looking young woman checking my groceries at the store, the bright eyed teenager at the coffee house or the old man on the beach each have their own story to tell. Each of them may just need a few minutes of my time. Each of them may need just a small and tender human touch to know that they are still valid, that they are still acknowledged. This poor man that I met, trying to forget he is so lonely, maybe if more people took the time to talk to him, he wouldn't be so lonely and he wouldn't have to spend his time trying to forget.