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I had to go to a shopping centre last week. Blegh. With two kids. BLEGH!

But I’m good, my friends: I moved fast! In and out with the stuff I needed, managing to leave just as My Little Ones were beginning to crack  it. Winner!

Except then our pusher developed a mysterious flat tyre, it started to pour with rain [we were parked outside] and the lift that was closest to where we parked [read: the only one I knew how to find my way to – I get crazy lost in scary shopping centres] was broken.

So there I was: two crying kids, a recalcitrant pusher, an armful of stuff balanced on a wonky hip, dripping wet, circling round trying to find a lift that worked. YUK.

Finally, we found the lift and squeezed in: people kindly averting their eyes from The Crazy Lady With Hysterical Offspring. And as I hobbled out, an older lady asked me if she could help: let me carry your shopping [she said].

Now this lady was little and looked frail and my shopping wasn’t heavy but it was lumpy and big and cumbersome.

Oh thank you! [I replied] but I’m fine, really. [Totally unconvincing].

She reached for my stuff and asked which way to my car. Now remember, the lift near my car was broken so we were actually A Hundred Miles away from where I’d parked. I told her that and she just said: the walk will do me good.

And so we walked, the Little Ones miraculously stopped crying and The Lady and I started talking.

She’d had three children herself and was always so grateful when others offered help that she tried whenever she could, to repay the kindness. She told me that her oldest two were twins but one of them had died, only a couple of years before. I didn’t know what to say, hating that our language [or maybe it’s our culture? or maybe just me?] is so lacking and unhelpful when it comes to death.

I’m so sorry to hear that [ I said]. And even as it came out of my mouth, I could hear it sounding trite and lame. Of course then, to emphasise that I really did feel sad, I repeated the same empty words. And then for good measure, made the conversation about me, adding that I couldn’t even imagine losing one of my own Littlies.

By that stage we had reached my car and she seemed incredibly sad. I wanted to hug her and say that she was beautiful and lovely and kind and that she didn’t deserve [no-one does but she really didn’t] to lose her darling child. But I just said an awkward thank you and she walked away.

I have been thinking about her ever since.

Tags: baby love, communication, connection, grief, Sadness