Your Dad is My Dad



First of all I'd like to thank you. What you did was something I hope that I'd do for your dad if he lived in my town. 

He’d come to the courthouse to pay his car license fees, but not knowing where to go, he entered the wrong end of the monolithic building.

I’m sure you could see he was elderly, but then you must have noticed how tired he seemed. 


When he asked you where he needed to go, instead of pointing the way, you had him sit in a nearby chair. You walked the lengthy hallways to complete his transaction. I'm not sure why, but I cried when I heard what you did. Maybe it was a small act, something you'd have done regardless, but it was your kindness that touched me so deeply.


How often have I brushed past the aging in my own community in my rush to complete my own to-do list? Do I bother to notice how tired they are? Have I stopped long enough to ask if they could use me to run an errand? 

I’m often so self-absorbed that I fear I’ve missed dozens of chances to do what you did. I want to have your vision—to be able to see a tired, elderly person and offer help. 

Even though we haven't met, your act of gentle kindness has melted a place in my own heart. May I remember to treat everyone else's elderly parents with the kindness and care I'd treat my own.

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