Sad moment helps bring strangers together

“I’ve only visited my dad’s gravesite twice since he died 15 years ago. In my mind, he isn’t there anyway. So it’s just not something I think to do. Recently, driving from my mom’s to my sister’s house, I was rerouted because of traffic and ended up driving right past the gravesite. So I did a U-turn and went back. I figured I should go, particularly since it happened to be my dad’s birthday. 

“So there I was, filled with emotion, standing in the hot Houston sun, looking up at my dad’s name placard on the mausoleum wall, when I see a police officer’s car pull up and park right behind mine. The officer gets out and starts walking through the graveyard directly toward me. I’m thinking, ‘Please, Lord. I cannot handle any nonsense right here, right now.’ Of course, I tensed up. But I had the clarity of mind to keep my hands visible and still. The officer stands next to me and looks up at a name placard just as I’m doing. No one else is around, just me and this cop standing next to each other looking up at names on a mausoleum wall. 

“About 30 seconds of silence goes by, and I start to hear him gently cry. Until then I hadn’t shed a tear. But of course, at the sound of his tears, mine start to fall. Then, before I knew it, we were both uncontrollably sobbing and shedding lots of tears. And maybe not just for our individual loved ones, but also for all those who’ve senselessly died. Maybe there were even tears shed for our country in general. I don’t know. I haven’t cried like that in a long time.

“After we calmed down and collected ourselves, at the exact same time we turned and looked each other. He extended his hand. I shook it. No words exchanged. No words needed. Then we both walked back to our respective cars and left.

“I was still processing the whole thing as I got ready to board a plane back to New York. And it felt like a heaviness that I sometimes carry around was lifted a bit, at least, for that moment. Thanks, Dad, and happy birthday.”

— Alan H. Green