3 Unique Kindnesses (#2)
*Author’s Note: Kindness happens to us everyday. Whether it’s a woman holding the door for us as we enter the market, or the guy who hands us a dropped baby toy. Humans do small kindnesses for each other all the time. And while we could all stand to take a moment and appreciate those tiny beautiful things, this series is not about the ordinary of the everyday. In this post, the previous post, and the next, I’m sharing kindnesses that were grand, unique and had a lasting, profound effect on me. The world is sometimes a too solid, jagged and hard place. Receiving kindness acts as a protective bubble wrap, allowing us to continue to walk, stagger and sway through life..
I had been living and working as an actor and a paralegal in NYC for years. It might not sound like the two would mix well, but I was fortunate to work for laws firms who valued my skills and allowed me a certain flexibility, and booked gigs that allowed me to keep a job that paid for my apartment.
On this particular day in late January, I left the office to go grab lunch and pick up a birthday card for my Dad, whose birthday was February 4th. When I came back to the office about an hour later, sandwich and birthday card in hand, my officemate Patricia, was waiting at the elevator. I held the door for her to go down, thinking she was leaving, but she let me know that she had been waiting for me. She said I needed to call my Mom right away.
As we walked back to our office, we passed other people in the hallways who were giving me/us strange, concerning looks. Clearly, they knew something I did not.
When we got to our office, Abby, one of the Partners was waiting for us. She said, “Call your Mom. We’ll be right here.” Maybe you can imagine the leaden weight of dread I felt when I picked up the phone and began to dial my Mother’s phone number.
My family is from Upstate New York, right at the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains, about 230 miles northwest of Manhattan. It’s beautiful country, but with many shuttered leather processing factories and far too many people living at or below the poverty line. My Dad was a truck driver and my mom was cleaning woman. My entire family lived in the area.
As I was listening to my mom’s phone ringing in my ear, I remember my heart almost thumping out of my chest. I knew that what ever had happened was really, really bad.
She answered on the third ring. I could tell she had been crying. She told me that my Dad, who had been driving a dump truck with an additional “pup” trailer, had an axle snap while on the Thruway. The accident was catastrophic, and he had died at the crash site.
In that moment, all I could think was, while I was out buying my Dad a birthday card, he was dying on a highway outside of Oneonta, New York.
The next little while are a blur to me. I know I cried. I know I told my Mom that I’d drive up first thing in the morning, but the rest is fuzzy.
I know that Abby and several other attorneys and paralegals gathered around me and held me as I cried. I remember them getting a car to take me home - I was in no condition to deal with the subway. Kimber, my direct report, Patricia and another woman, came home with me.
I was friendly with these women, but they weren’t my friends. We were work associates. Outside of work and work-related events, we had never hung out. That night, they got me home safe. They bought food and made sure I ate. They cleaned up. They packed my suitcase. They called my close friends to tell them what was going on.
And they hugged me, and let me wail. They patted my back and cried with me.
Once my friends arrived, these three women each hugged me hard, told me to call if I needed anything, and handed me off, leaving me in much, much better shape than I would have been without them.
Abby and the firm took care of the details of my car rental and paid for it. They made sure I had cash in my wallet for the trip. They assured me that I could take as much time as I needed and that my job would be there when I got back.
The time period from the moment I heard my mom’s voice on the phone, until after the actual funeral, are a bit of a memory haze. Only fragments and snippets are really clear to me. What is clear, particularly in hindsight, is what an extraordinary and collective gift of kindness those people gave to me – how selflessly they each acted in providing care and comfort to someone who was a relative stranger.
It was an extraordinary, unforgettable and profound kindness that I still feel grateful to have received.
LB Adams is the CEO of Practical Dramatics, LLC. She is a communication & public speaking coach, author and keynote speaker.