The Kindest Thing You Can Do is Let Someone Else Be Kind

I’ve learned countless lessons from my friend June, and while one of the biggest was a life changing moment for me, another little tidbit has stuck with me for years.

It’s a small, simple moment that reveals so much about human connection.

(And shows what a a wonderful person June was.)

I was with June downtown one day when a woman asked us if we needed directions. I knew June was familiar with the area, but for some reason she politely told the woman she didn't know the way. The woman then happily gave June a detailed set of directions.

As we walked away, I asked June why she pretended not to know where we were going.

June’s answer was simple and profound: “People like to help others. It makes them feel good.”

I can still picture the scene perfectly:

June listened intently, nodding and smiling, and the woman genuinely happy to be helping, as she pointed to the direction down around the corner where we needed go. When she finished, June thanked her with a huge, grateful smile - and even a hug! They both walked away a little happier.

In that small interaction, June taught me that sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is let someone else be kind.

It’s a beautiful reminder that connection and shared joy can be found in the simplest of exchanges.

(Gemini created)

The Unseen Burden of Certain Questions

It's incredibly tough when seemingly innocent questions cause deep pain, especially during vulnerable times. And they aren't trivial instances - some have a significant emotional impact, and they stay with us.

Sometimes, a seemingly simple question can inflict deep emotional distress, even if that's not the asker's intent. While "terrible" might not be the exact word, there are moments when a question, innocently posed, places you in an incredibly difficult and uncomfortable position. It's hard to explain, but there have been a few times in my life where such a question has left me feeling profoundly upset, precisely because of the unfair position I felt like I was in.

I'll share an example that still brings me to tears (even as I type this out), even almost 14 years later. When my Mom was in hospice, someone asked if they could visit her... during her final hours. My Mom and I were incredibly close, and I knew she would only want one person by her side during that intimate time: me; the love of her life (she would always exclaim). She wouldn't have wanted a crowd; or people gawking at her, or anything like that; she just wanted me there by her side. Further, this person was someone my Mom didn't really like.

So, through my own grief and tears, I gently said no. But then, they asked again. Having to reiterate "no" while my Mom was dying and all I wanted was to be fully present with her was excruciating. It was an unimaginable burden to be forced into that conflict during such a raw, suffering time.

I was very upset that someone would place me in such a position when I was already so vulnerable. Their focus seemed to be solely on their own desire to "be there," without considering the immense emotional cost to me, or my Mom's wishes. This person had barely been present in my Mom's life for the past two years, only showing up once when she was very sick, and then suddenly wanting to be there at the very end just didn't align with what I knew my Mom wanted. As someone who naturally tries to please others, it's already incredibly difficult for me to say no or risk hurting feelings. To do so while enduring such profound personal suffering felt almost unbearable.

This experience highlights the invisible weight certain questions can carry. It serves as a powerful reminder to consider the impact of our inquiries on others, especially when they may be navigating difficult circumstances. Even now, facing a personal medical procedure that requires assistance, I find myself hesitant to ask for help, fearing I'll inconvenience someone or put them in an awkward position where they feel obligated rather than genuinely wanting to help.

Not By Myself

I go to restaurants all the time by myself, a simple consequence of living alone.

It's never bothered me to sit alone in a restaurant or at the bar of a restaurant. I share this because a close friend of mine has major anxiety and is so self-conscious about dining alone, she avoids it if at all possible. To me, it is a normal feeling, normal situation.

A few months ago, I went to an IHOP to have a late morning breakfast while my car was being worked on. I love me some IHOP and crave their delicious pancakes.

Several times over the years, I would sometimes see someone else in the restaurant within eyesight that is also eating alone. It crosses my mind - do I have the guts to ask them if I can sit with them or would they like to sit with me? I was never brave enough to approach them. But, as we both would sit there, each other on our phones or just eating alone, it made me think it would be neat if someday that might really happen.

Low and behold, this opportunity came up at that IHOP! I was waiting to be seated when another lady came in the door to eat also. As the hostess began to walk me to my seat, she asked the lady to come too, so she could sit her at the same time. I asked for a booth and the hostess gave me one. Then the lady asked for a booth, too, but none were available, only tables. She kinda looked around in shock, as did I, seeing a whole nother section vacant with plenty of booths, but they didn't have enough servers to open that section.

I looked at the lady and I could tell her booth request was a deal breaker and she turned around and started to walk away. I then nonverbally motioned my hands and offered her to sit down with me at the booth. And, she did!

We sat and talked for almost two straight hours, showing each other photos of our dogs (she just got a puppy pitbull and Lily was a pitbull) and we shared our whole history of where we lived and why - the topic was obvious because I had just moved to the area six months ago.

It was a beautiful two-hour moment, if two hours can be considered a moment.

I fully admit I doubt this experience will give me the strength to ask strangers in the future if I can sit with them or if they would like to leave their table to join me at mine, with a fellow solo-sitting patron. I do need to be careful with the interpretation of these scenarios as it can be taken wrong. To be biased and honest, I only think about this with people my own age or older and by all accounts, has a decent appearance, lol, so don't worry about my safety, please.  

While this may not happen again, it was still a really cool experience. Who knew sitting with a stranger would fulfill a little wish, huh? :)