Dom

I bumped into Dom this morning on my way to work. Dom is a man I worked with seventeen years ago.

We stood on the sidewalk outside of my building talking for about ten minutes or so asking each other questions about where we have been and what we have been up to over the past few years. I told him I had moved to L.A. for two years with my boyfriend and then came back and got married.

I coulnd’t leave it at that. My story felt like a lie.

We talked some more about trivial matters and then I said, “Sadly, my husband passed away two years ago.”

Dom’s expression held such genuine concern that I wanted to hug him. He, very openly, said, “Did he have cancer?” and I replied, “Yes.” Shocked, and seemingly knowingly he said, “How old was he?” I told him Chris was 34. He went on to say that he was just talking with another person who had told him she had been through the same thing. Then he asked me how I was doing and I knew he meant it so I told him, “You learn to cope and you learn to move on. It never goes away but you just move on.” Then I told him that a lot of good has come out of the bad. He pondered what I had just shared with him and said, “That’s too bad, Robin.” and I said, “Yeah. It is.” We said goodbye and Dom hugged me.

I walked away and softly said, “I’m telling my story. I’m not hiding it, anymore.”

People like Dom are few and far between.