I read a story of a young man who calmed another man under some stress by holding his hand and letting him lean in on him on a bus in Canada yesterday. It got blasted through the internet as photos do these days, a stranger snapped the picture, posted it, even the family of this man found the photo online and thanked the guy for treating their family member kindly. I think we are shocked by kindness these days because the news is awful, bad news is all we hear about. Really bad things are happening all the time and we have the access to hear and know about them. Really good things are happening all the time, too, but we don't focus on that as much. The quiet heroes live their lives day after day after day. After day. Without recognition, unless someone takes a photo and posts it on Facebook, I suppose. Or someone remembers to throw them a party every once in a while or bring them flowers. Those are wonderful people, those people that are good at remembering to celebrate those that do not seek recognition for their lifelong good work.
We all know people who are quiet heroes. I happen to know a lot, the business I have been in the past several years, many people are. When I became someone who needed help instead of a helper I learned who the quiet heroes were more than ever. One person comes to mind I used to work with who baffled me by their goodness. He didn't believe in heaven and I told him I didn't care, if there was one, he was going. He could be guarding the gates of freaking heaven, honestly, but he wouldn't want the job which is the ironic point, right? Isn't life just so flipped upside-down? When I woke up on the floor from a seizure he was one of the many people there, looking at me... and I remember thinking later, what lucky people to be counseled by him. The empathy in his eyes was piercing. Much of my experience of having seizures was the muddled memory of the waking up after them, since they were convulsive, and I would be temporarily unconscious.
The first time I woke up like this was on a bus, on the floor, and a stranger helped me. Her name was Tana. I have the texts from a year ago saved on my phone from her that she sent to me. Tana told me to stay calm. That I would be OK. She told me everything was going to be all right, and that she was the one that had helped me when no one knew what to do with me, when I was scary to everyone around me. Because mine are scary, I have been told. I told Tana I was scared and thank you. I told her that night that the tests came back OK and that we didn't know what was wrong, that maybe it was just one time.
I don't know if she really knew what she was doing or if she just decided to jump in and help. Tana didn't get a photo on Facebook and an article written up about her, but I am so glad she was there for me. Maybe she is the kind of person who does this kind of thing all of the time, and if she is, I hope someone throws her a party soon.