Saturday, May 17, 2014
The Woman in the Waiting Room
While sitting in the relatively empty waiting room of the clinic this morning, waiting to get my legs worked on by the osteopath, a woman of about my age seated close to me struck up a conversation. Naturally, it turned to children, and there was no easy way out of mentioning the death of my daughter, so I told her, briefly. Then she said how she will never get over her own grief and volunteered about how she had been abused by her grandfather from ages 10-15, and how even today, almost 40 years later, it hurts her deeply inside. She started sobbing and I held her for a moment. Then she told me how she felt better now. As I was called in by the nurse, the woman and I shook hands and exchanged first names. Later, sitting in the patient room waiting some more, I realized that while my leg injury was not the cause of "good coming from a bad thing," a way of thinking I do not much care for, that nevertheless, I am pleased how the subtle workings of the universe brought us together this day - the woman in the waiting room and me.