god bless our cracked hearts

Last night I met a man who put a tiny crack in my heart.

On our way to dinner, I saw him. He was a frail old man who could barely walk… the little steps that he took that night seemed to be his last. He clutched his stomach tightly like he was clinging on to dear life. When I looked at his face, I saw pain in his shut eyes. It was picture that would put a million cracks in your heart, and it was too much for my friends and me to ignore.

We approached him and asked if he was ok, obviously he wasn’t. We learned that he just lost his wife and he was there to borrow money from the men he worked with in a construction. He needed a thousand bucks to claim his wife’s body but nobody was able to loan him some money. Maybe you’d think he was one of those crooks who’d make up “pity-me-stories” to solicit money, but the old man never asked anything from us. He even excused himself and told us he wanted to go home. With tearful eyes, he walked away wordlessly. We stood there paralyzed by sympathy and grief. A few steps away we saw him collapse on the steps. We had to do something, so we walked up to him. We learned that he hasn’t gotten a meal that day and he suffered from ulcer, so we invited him to go to dinner with us but he refused. Conveniently, my friend had some cookies and crackers stocked in her bag, so we almost forced him to take a bite. I went to starbucks where I bought him frappuccino (nah… just kidding) where I got him a cup of water. He was teary eyed when we bid him good bye, and he thanked us and asked God to bless our hearts…

God bless our cracked hearts.

For a long time, my life has been an endless search for parties, buffets, and overflowing booze. I believe that life is too short and I live by the code: eat, drink, and be merry. For the longest time, I have been oblivious. But last night, reality bit me… life isn’t always beautiful…at least, not until we make it.

Where is the beauty in losing a wife, to not be able to take her home and finally put her to rest? …Is there beauty on an empty stomach or to have nothing to feed your brood? Last night, I learned that beauty is in the ears of the people who know how to listen. It is in the eyes of people who just don’t look, but really see. Beauty is not just the feeling of sympathy…it’s doing something about it.

That man could’ve been my dad, he could’ve been yours. It could’ve been me or it could’ve been you. If ever that time would come, I hope I’d meet somebody who would make me see that life is still beautiful despite its drawbacks and pitfalls.