There was a knock at the front door. I could hear my kids’ tiny feet shuffling to see who it was. I got up from my chair in the office and just as the kids were slowly opening the door, I could hear our Culligan Man. He smiled and waved and said “Could you let your Mom or Dad know the Culligan Man is here.”
Every other week he’s here to change out the soft water tank in our garage. There’s actually a little blue appointment reminder card tucked into one of the straps of our water heater. On the days he’s set to arrive, we unlock the side door of our garage so that he can let himself in.
Most of the time we remember to unlock the door. And most of the time we never cross paths. But today was different.
I had actually remembered to unlock the access door to our garage around 7am that morning. But my husband had been in the garage shortly after me and locked the door (not checking the blue appointment card). I’m not trying to point fingers here but…point, point.
After I helped the kids close the front door, I shuffled around to the garage and went inside to unlock that door (again). The kids of course followed.
The Culligan Man started wheeling the replacement tank into the garage. I apologized again (blamed my husband for this door debacle) and was starting to walk back into the house. But my kids weren’t ready to go inside. They were clearly fascinated with the upcoming tank task and so I stayed, making sure they were at the very least staying out of his way.
While it may be socially acceptable for small children to stand and stare with their mouths open, I decided it might be good for me to actually say something. Also, silence can make me feel extremely awkward.
I asked how he was doing with all of this life’s (COVID) craziness and how his girls were doing. I had remembered from a prior conversation that he had two older daughters.
With a big smile he was happy to report that they were doing well. One was married and had just bought her first home and the younger daughter was a few years out of high school and attending a local community college.
My seven-year-old daughter chimed in that it was hard to believe that she’d ever be that old.
Our Culligan Man laughed and explained that it all happens fast.
The transition to the next part of our conversation is a little fuzzy, but what followed still rests over me.
I think we were talking about being proud of his daughters and he mentioned that his mom would be very proud. If only she hadn’t passed away a few years earlier.
We talked about his mom being sick. We talked about him feeling regret over not being able to say ‘goodbye’ to her like he wanted to.
And yes, my kids were still just staring.
I asked if he feels her with him and does she bring him signs that she’s still here. Let me pause here by saying I went out on a limb with this one. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I was aware that this question may seem a little odd. I mean, I’m asking an acquaintance if he gets signs from beyond. But if you’ve lost someone, these little love taps from the person you have lost can be so important. I also realize that maybe I was just making sure that I wasn’t the only one.
“Oh yeah!,” he said with unapologetic and comforting conviction.
Hummingbirds come to see him. Sometimes they are literally in his face.
He went on to say that purple is her color. He pointed to the plant we have in our backyard, right near the access door, with one solo purple flower growing on it. Of course I hadn’t noticed this lone purple flower. Because at that time, it wasn’t meant for me. It was for him.
I shared about Chase and our white butterflies. And he asked about Chase.
A few minutes later he went on his way to his next customer’s house and I went back into the house to sit at my desk and work on the spreadsheets still up on the computer.
I’ll never remember what was on those computer spreadsheets that day, but this exchange has stayed with me for a few weeks now and is something that I will take with me for days, weeks, months to come.
It is in these life exchanges that we become better people.
Am I better because I opened that door for the Culligan Man? You bet I am.
Do I feel that I was supposed to open that door? Absolutely.
Maybe he needed to talk about his Mom. And maybe I needed to hear it.
The connections we share with people, although potentially short in time, can have such heart healing and lasting effects on the people we become.
From these types of exchanges I have learned a lot.
- Connecting to others can heal
- Opportunities for empathy are everywhere
- Sharing is scary but can be so rewarding
- You never know what the next door opens (literally in some cases)
- It is human nature to shy away from talking about grief, but there is something beautiful that can be found if you lean towards the uncomfortable
- Some conversations are meant to be had
I encourage us all to open the door sometimes. It just might lead you to hummingbirds, purple flowers and even healing.
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Thank you for writing about our opportunities for connections to people on a random basis. It’s a small world but there are big rewards in making a personal connection.. Extending the hand of friendship …. Thoughtful, funny, interesting, amazing!