He is loved

I had a moment tonight that rocked me to my core. It's 11pm and I can't sleep. I need to get it out. I need to say the words in my head so I can feel quiet again.


He looked just like him. Older, gray at the temples, more lines on his face. It's obvious he's had a rough life but his smile reads so genuine you almost don't notice. He was so real. So alive.
Shorter than Scott, though most people are. Stockier too but that's no surprise. My breath caught on sight. Then he tried to speak to me. All that came out was the same squeaky, short burst of sound that Scott made near the end. His eyes said "what can I do for you? How can I help?" but his voiced just made these grunts and squeaks.

He walked toward me, coming to assist and there was that same awkward gate that Scott had. Visions of Scott standing up and walking flashed before like I had just seen it. Like, 19months haven't passed since I last saw Scott walk. So slow, so cautious, each and every movement calculated and planned. But the brightness in his eyes never faded. It never said anything less than "I'm going to take care of you. Be patient with me."

He reached up to get me the cinnamon roll I ordered and there were Scott's hands. Not the hands that Scott had when we met, or when we married, or when Kate was born. But the hands he had in the end. His hands didn't work right, there was that slow tremble and stiff grasp but it didn't stop him. He had created his own way of doing things. Getting his job done regardless of the obstacles.

His mind was sharp. He looked at the money I handed him and quickly knew exactly what my change should be. His brain knew it, but his body wouldn't allow it. He struggled with every bill, every coin. As he reached out to hand me the two pennies he had worked so hard to get, my hands started shaking and I dropped them on the counter. He's the one with the troubles and I can't even keep the money in my hand.

I wanted to hug him. Hug this stranger and tell him it was going to be ok. Then I notice his shiny, gold wedding band. Somebody loves him. This was somebody's Scott. He is loved. He is taken care of. Somewhere somebody was worried about him, proud of him, missing him.
I took my change and dropped a few bills in the tip jar. With the warmest eyes and the kindest smile he signed "thank you". I pictured Scott laying there those few short nights before he passed trying so hard to tell me thank you. I signed "thank you" in return to this gentleman and gave him what I hope was a genuine, warm smile.

Turning on my heels, I ran out of the doors, through the courtyard, into the parking lot, seeking refuge in my car. Tears rolling, heart aching.
I can't remember the specifics of that man's face now but I can see his bright, shiny, gold wedding band. He is loved and he loves in return. There is no greater gift.