When Linette noticed a stranger’s child wearing a silver bracelet—the identical jewelry she had buried with her daughter five years prior—her routine supermarket errand took an unsettling turn. She dug into a troubled background, determined to get the truth, and discovered truths that would alter her life forever. Like any other Tuesday morning, it began. As usual, I was in a hurry and wanted nothing to do with the throngs of people in the grocery store. However, I had run out of milk and could no longer ignore the empty refrigerator. Everyday chores that were monotonous and repetitious felt like a harsh reminder of how things had changed since then. Life had to go on, though.
I saw a dad battling a toddler in the cereal aisle as I wheeled my cart around the aisles, mentally crossing things off my list. His three-year-old daughter was going through a full-blown breakdown, complete with screaming, tears, and flailing arms. The man appeared utterly defeated, his shoulders hunched over from what appeared to be much more than a difficult morning. I sympathized with her because I had been there years before.
With my mother instincts taking control, I approached. “Require assistance?” With a smile I hoped would reassure him, I asked. The man looked up, relief and surprise mixed together in his expression. It was as though I had just thrown him a lifeline while he was drowning.
“I appreciate it,” he responded, raking his fingers through his unkempt hair. There was fatigue in his voice. We are alone here, and mornings like this can be difficult. particularly since her mother abandoned us a year ago. “I was surprised to hear a direct honesty in his speech. This man was not experiencing ordinary parenting tiredness; rather, he was grieving deeply. In an attempt to soothe the young girl, I knelt down to her level.
With tears welling up in her eyes, her small face reddened from the exertion of her outburst. I gave her a box of cereal, which was obviously her favorite, and she stopped sobbing right away. Her cries subsided to little sniffles as her tiny fingers gripped the box as though it were a lifeline. “That is better,” I remarked gently, making an effort to look her in the eye. That is when I saw the bracelet around her wrist—a thin, handcrafted silver chain with a tiny cross hanging off of it. My heart gave out.
