I handed him the book I'd promised and stated "If I get this back, great, if not ...," I shrugged.
He told me I'd get it back. We smiled and shook hands.
He had been there, as much as anyone, through my little family's scariest moments. I know him. He prayed every night for us. He told others about our plight - and I'm certain they prayed too. This is community. This is what is done in trying times.
Later, in the afternoon I asked him what he was doing for the Easter Holiday weekend. He looked at me, hair still perfectly placed (the recent trim was becoming), his eyes more strained and red than I'd ever remembered on him.
He said "I'm taking dad to church on Sunday." There was a certainty and an understanding in the resoluteness of his voice. Something I recognized, but could not fully pretend to understand. Air and vibrations combined with body language on both our behalves completing the bonds in the air between us.
This man, his father, may not be here for another Easter. The subtext was easily read, but things that seem easy mostly never are.
I stood, rooted, waiting for whatever he was to offer next. His mom and sister were going back "home" for the weekend. Big plans for sis and a national event. Mom would return when sis was safely on her way. He was going to stay in town with his father.
His brother's wife is due with twins soon as well, he reminded me (good, I thought, something I can relate a little better to), but they were at 33 weeks gestation, and at 4+ pounds each and starting to get a little grumpy inside mom it sounded like to him. A little one's heartrate was dipping for undesirable periods of time. They might be coming soon.
I looked back at him, doing my best to show empathy, standing in front of filing cabinets and the new copy machine, with people walking in front of us all the while. I said "When it rains, it pours, huh?" He nodded and said, "Yes." We shook hands again and moved on - bound to what somebody tells us is the more important thing for the time being.
I don't have the capacity for prayer he does - not in the same way at least. He and his family are here, in my mind and in my dreams ~ I'm giving them all I have. I'm willing that this not be the last Easter they get to share together - that he might find the strength he needs to come through it all.
