Bread

I met an overly friendly,  kind, and well-intentioned, women in the store yesterday.  However, she opened a wound in me that I didn't know existed.  Some of my wounds are obvious because they are gaping open.  I protect and cover these sores so they can heal properly. I realize they need to be carefully cared for so they do not get infected or scabbed over, later becoming scarred. I understand that extremely deep scars cause a lot of pain that often can never be fixed with out surgery and additional, unneeded pain. 

So anyway, back to my story.  This sweet lady opened a wound, poured in salt and rubbed it around a bit. It was Saturday evening and I was buying some staples for the upcoming week; milk, bread,  eggs,  etc. I headed to the cash register and got in the shortest line I could find.  Bread was on sale so I bought 6 loaves. My well-intentioned friend, whom we will call Suzy, since we don't know her name, was standing right behind me in the line. She strikes up a conversation with me by saying "How many children do you have?"

Being caught off guard I hesitated, wondering which number to choose. Should I say 5, 7, or 4? Then as if I had run out of time, I blurted out "5".

I didn't know buying "Bread" could be so hard!

  Suzy cheerfully said, "I figured you must have a big family, with all this bread you're buying." Laughing at her own joke. "Kids eat so much don't they?"

"Yes" I replied. Then broke eye contact trying to end the conversation.

"Are any of your children teenagers?" Suzy pressed curiously.

I nodded in the affirmative.

"How many? Any boys?" She questioned.

Seriously! How much salt do you have? I thought. Another long period of silence was followed by my introspective reply,  "Yes, I have 2 teenagers.  One boy and one girl."

Suzy exclaims, "Can you believe how much teenage boys eat? I actually didn't even realize how much my Teenage son was eating until he went off to college this year. When he left our grocery bill was cut in half." Another chuckle followed. 

I looked away again, as the tears started welling up. I tried with all my might to not have a major breakdown in the middle of our local grocery store. My mind had started racing rapidly with so many questions and thoughts. "I bet her son knew Terik, and I bet she knows about his death. Terik should be starting college this year just like her son. Terik would have moved out also. He should have taken all his stuff with him. Instead his stuff is sitting in his room waiting for me to sift through it, deciding what things I can bare to part with. He would probably be coming home for Sunday dinner tomorrow, telling me all about his first week of college life. 

Anger flared up inside me.  Should I yell back at Suzy? Could I say,  "CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS?  MY SON IS DEAD! So this is a very painful and uncomfortable conversion for me!"  I knew it wasn't her fault though. She had no idea what my life entailed, about my story, or the struggles I was having just to get through a day. She was just trying to strike up pleasant conversation probably hoping to make my day a little more cheery. So I restrained myself and decided to put on my fake smile and be kind back to her instead. "Yes", I said. "It is so true. When my son left,  I quickly realized that I needed to buy less food.  Gallons of milk, bags of chips,  bottles of salsa,  and tons of other stuff went bad, before we could eat it all.  I realized I needed to cut back on my groceries."

Suzy shot back, "It has actually been really nice for me to save some money on..." Thankfully, just seconds before this last comment was made, I was handed my receipt and told by the cashier to "Have a nice day." 

Suzy's voice trailed off as I turned around and walked away from her mid-sentence. With tears streaming down my face, I walked out of the store with the thought running through my head,  "There is no part of my son being gone that is nice and there shouldn't be for you either."  If I hadn't been crying and on the brink of a melt down,  I would have turned around and looked her square in the eyes and said, "You should love, hug and appreciate your son every single second you can. You should never be thankful for any part of not having him with you, because you never know if it will be your last." Instead, I walked straight to my car and clung to the steering wheel,  head down, and sobbed. I allowed the pain to run through me, I embraced the hurt and sadness.  I allowed the wound that was throbbing to remain open so it  could be cleansed by my tears, until it felt healed enough that I could move forward. 

    

There are many small cuts that come up like this.  Little wounds that I never expected and to some people would seem very insignificant. I have painstakingly learned that the best way to get through these moments, is to give myself the right to cry, get angry, feel in despair, or whatever I need to do, so that I can heal these cuts properly. I've seen that this actually helps me in the long run. Because the next time a similar event happens it will not open the wound again but merely cause a bruise. Bruises heal more quickly than open sores.  I have also learned through this experience, and many others like it, that people are well meaning. I need to appreciate their efforts and recognize them for what they are. Moments of Humanity, Brotherly Love, Kindness!

P.S.
So, I guess the Moral of this story is, "Don't buy lots of bread unless you're ready to talk to SUZY!!!"