One day last summer while fetching one of Mom’s prescriptions from the Target store, I spotted a woman standing at the open tailgate of her SUV, holding several frilly dresses on plastic hangers, admiring them in the afternoon sunlight. One of the dresses had fairy wings. Gifts for her granddaughters, maybe? I was walking toward my car just a few spots beyond hers, and I smiled, imagining the fun the woman was anticipating, seeing her granddaughters spin about like fairies in pretty new dresses.
She looked to the sky. She exhaled, sharply through firm lips. As she brought her gaze down again, it met mine.
I held onto my smile, and she didn’t look away, so I said “What fun dresses!”
“They’re for my nieces,” she said. “To wear to the funeral on Monday. My nephew.”
“That doesn’t sound so fun,” I said, consolingly I hoped. We were standing together behind her SUV.
“Leukemia. He’s 32. Our godson.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve brought meals over to my sister’s house—more than they can possibly eat.” She laughed almost. “I thought, she hasn’t had time to shop for the girls, something to wear to the funeral. I don’t know what else I can do.”
“They’re beautiful dresses.”
“I want to do more for them. I don’t know what else I can do. Maybe they’re not the right kind of dresses, but I just have to help.”
“Give them lots of hugs and tell them you love them,” I said.
The woman looked at me. She was going to cry.
“You look like you need a hug,” I said. “Would you like a hug?”
She dropped the dresses inside her car and curled into me. I held her. She sobbed. I just held onto her there in the parking lot while she grieved. I felt my Apple Watch vibrate—a phone call, probably Mom. I turned my wrist so the crying woman might not feel it. “Hugs are good,” I whispered.
She nodded against my shoulder.
“Make sure they get lots of hugs. That’s the best help now. They know you want to help, they know you love them.”
She nodded, sniffled, stepped back. “Thank you,” she said. “I guess I did need a hug.”
“The dresses are wonderful.”
“They were all together on the rack at Marshall’s. Just the right sizes, only one of each, all together. I had to get them. My husband will think I’m being foolish.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Only eight dollars!” She lifted the smallest dress, the one with wings.
“It would look wonderful on my granddaughter. She’s almost one.”
“My youngest niece just turned one,” she said. “Thank you.”
She pinched the shoulder of her shirt to wipe tears away and thanked me again and we said goodbye. Maybe a hug helped make her day just a little bit less awful.
I remember when this happened.
I remember thinking at the time what a beautiful human connection that was. How fortuitous for this grieving woman to have just the right person happen to walk by, at the just the right time, with the compassion, empathy and openness to relate to her situation and give her perfect advice and more.
Hugs are awesome, aren’t they? 💖