On my way to the gym via a route I normally don’t travel, I missed a right turn. Talking on WhatsApp to a beautiful woman on the other side of the planet had also distracted me. Politely ending the conversation, I maneuvered to find the shortest distance to the gym, arriving 10 minutes later – no big deal but glad for the delay because it gave me the opportunity to comfort someone.
Upon entering the gym, I spied a woman, Masah by name. She is someone in poor health who uses the indoor pool to walk – the water giving her painful knees some relief during exercise. I gave Masah a wave of the hand and a hello. She beckoned me over as unusual as that was. The look of concern on her face told me I was about to hear something disturbing.
I asked, “How are you?” With her distraught look, she replied “Not good, my brother died.” I searched my mind on how best to respond to her obvious grief. “When did he die?” I asked. “Four days ago,” she said. She went on to tell me how she had seen her brother in Houston, Texas, two months ago at his son’s wedding.
Again, I searched my mind in an effort to find a helpful way to respond, deciding best to sympathize with her feelings, as she held back her tears. I decided to acknowledge the painful feelings she was experiencing.
Masah went on to describe her brother as this intelligent and caring person, who started a software company with his younger brother. Now, all the responsibility will be falling to the younger brother, she said with distraught.
She told me that her brother had a stroke. I asked how old was he, and she said 65. “So young,” I said. Masah then told me how scared she was to be living by herself, not knowing what might happen to her when no one was around. I said that was understandable. She told me coming to the gym was part of her effort to feel better.
I then told her that I had lost my best friend, Cliff about a year ago, and how hard that was for me.
After about ten minutes of conversation – with me mainly listening – we went our separate ways to perform our distinct exercise routines.
Afterwards, I began to think how lucky I was to have missed that right turn on the way to the gym. Being able to offer some words of comfort and to listen to distressed Masah reminded me that there is no such thing as a wrong turn. It is important to achieve a degree of self-confidence to navigate unchartered terrain with the knowledge that opportunities surround us if we are open to seeing them. It also made me wonder if there was a power larger than me that made me miss that turn…to that question I have no answer, just a sense of wonderment.