A Chance Encounter
Last night, we had the pleasure of attending our nephew Zach’s 24th birthday party.
Part of me still hurt though at the thought that in a couple of weeks Corey should also be turning 24. I smiled. I laughed. I enjoyed myself. And I know that my boys were able to “let their hair down” for the occasion as well. So it was an excellent time for all of us.
However, after a while I knew that I was starting to let the stress get to me when I started to get a headache and called one of the boys Corey (thank goodness not to their face). So I let the boys stay to enjoy the party and Bob and I made our way to our favorite Café (name withheld for privacy reasons).
Honestly, I don’t know why we went there. We discussed several different options between my sister’s home and there. But somehow the truck just kept driving until we reached there.
After a while, a waitress came up and asked us if we recognized her… she’d been a manager at Zio’s a while back. Of course we did! She hadn’t heard about Corey’s murder. So we shared with her what had happened.
We told her about the foundation we’ve started (Corey’s Network, Inc.). We talked about Corey’s best friend Cory and how he handled the news (she knows him, and was worried). Then she got pulled away.
Not missing a beat, our waitress came up. “Did I hear you say that you have started a program to help people surviving a murder?”
“Yes.” we answered in unison.
“I have a friend that works here that lost his son to murder a few months ago. He was a single parent. He had no other children. He has no one else to help him through this. Can I bring him over so he can talk to you?”
“Of course” (again in unison… at this point, I began to think we were talking in stereo.)
He wouldn’t come. Of course he wouldn’t want to bother a couple of strangers while they eat their dinner. I understand this.
But what he doesn’t understand is that he has just entered into a very elite club.
One that you don’t EVER want to join.
But when you do, you are welcomed with open arms. You are surrounded by prayers.
One made up of the most caring, loving, selfless, giving, beautiful people I have ever met.
And you can be heard and understood like never before.
So, we wrote our numbers and information on an old vigil invitation so that he would have a picture of Corey. Bob walked over and gave him the card. He told him he could call day or night, and we would listen.
As we left, we stopped by the service station where he was putting in an order and reiterated what Bob said.
Words began to spill out of this young mans mouth. They were private between us… but they were words he couldn’t say to just anyone… words he’d held in for months. Words I too have spoken, but I had Bob to say them to.
And as he spoke, the tears flowed. I could feel the muscles in his arm flex and relax under my hand as he spoke.
The whole conversation took maybe five minutes, but for those five minutes, we were the only people in the world.
We were quiet, and the restaurant loud… so we figured no one knew what was going on besides the three of us.
But as we left, the employees gave us a nod. Not your normal, “Thank you for joining us” nod.
But a “Thank you for helping our friend” nod.
As we walked to the truck Bob said, “Well, I guess we know why we came here now, don’t we?”.
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