Harvey’s first impression usually was that of a cantankerous old man. He was rough around the edges and never hesitated to speak his mind, doing so quite often.

I work in a store which, in and of itself, would seem like a fairly benign job — punch in, punch out, get paid. But it’s interesting …. you get the same customers coming in all the time, and after a while, you get to know them, and they, you. You get comfortable with one another, and before long, they’re telling you their life story or their current troubles and turmoil. I suppose I would liken my position to that of a barber, hairdresser or bartender. We listen. We converse. We share. So it wasn’t too terribly unusual when Harvey began talking about personal issues with my sister, who works at the same store.

Now, you have to understand that my sister has a huge heart made of pure gold. Her specialties are empathy, understanding and compassion; so she felt for Harvey when he told her how sad and bad he felt inside, knowing he had grown so distant from his sons. He told her he had waited by the phone all day this past Father’s Day, hoping one of them would call. But no one called. Being the caring person she is, my sister’s heart went out to him. She invited him to share in Thanksgiving Dinner with us, which he appreciated more than he could say. I didn’t know she had asked him until he told me himself one day at the store, just a few days before Thanksgiving. He told me he thought he would come, and I answered by telling him we would love to have him. He told us later that he would have to decline, as he had been invited by some Church friends to share Thanksgiving with them. He knew them much better, so of course we understood; but he made sure we knew how much he appreciated us thinking of him.

He became sick sometime last year ….

I never knew exactly what was wrong … I only knew that he began coming into the store with an oxygen tank on wheels, so I knew he must have been pretty sick. Our co-workers would moan and mumble whenever Harvey walked in. They thought he was a mean old man, and hated waiting on him. My sister and I told them they just needed to give him a chance … talk to him … be nice to him … show him respect. Sometimes you have to look beneath the surface to find the light that shines within. No one would really listen to us. They would mumble and grumble something else about him, then walk away.

Harvey died 2 days ago. I haven’t seen him for a couple of months, as I have been on leave from work. The last time I saw him was shortly before Christmas. He smiled at me and wished me a Merry Christmas, and we visited. Harvey just wanted to be loved. He merely wanted someone to talk to …. a friend who would truly listen and care about what he had to say. His death drove home something I learned long ago, and have been reminded of time and time again ….

Every word we speak …. every action we take …. every reaction we have …. ripples outward, touching all who come within its reach. Sometimes, a simple smile to a stranger can make a dark day bright; a kind word or nod of the head can make someone feel like they matter; and sometimes, an ear or a shoulder offered in friendship can change a life. Outward appearance which may seem brusk or nasty is oftentimes a fissaud for the pain which dwells beneath, and it requires vision which sees beyond sight to coax one’s true self out into the open. I consider it an honor when someone trusts me enough to allow me the privilege of seeing. So …. if we take care in how we move the waters, the ripples can buoy us all.

My sister went to see Harvey at the funeral home today, just to tell him goodbye, and that it had been an honor knowing him. And it was. God bless you, Harvey …. and thank you for reminding me …. once again.