Today may seem just like any other ordinary day in the fall. People woke up, went to work and went about their regular business. However, for me, the date has a different significance. September 21 is the day my father died six years ago. That fact made me think of how many times we pass people on the street, in the office, and possibly even at home, and have no idea that it may not be “just another Tuesday” for someone.
On the elevator this morning I was lost in my own little world, thinking of all the things my father had missed in my family – my wedding, the birth of my brother’s child, his grandchildren growing up and reaching milestones of their own. I could practically hear the imaginary elevator music in my mind, starring the sounds of a self-indulgent violin playing, when a man entered with a cheery “It’s going to be another beautiful day.” Simple as it may seem, that small act of kindness swiftly “snapped me out of it.”
I was looking inward, instead of outward and upward, at the world around me. And more importantly, I was thinking of my own sorrow, instead of focusing on the fact that my father is now at rest with God. Sure, today will never be an “ordinary” day for me again, but it doesn’t have to be a bad one. I’m usually more of a quiet person, especially around strangers, but I may just try to use the random “good morning” more often.