Crying in the Redding Terminal With a Stranger

This is the kind of “eat it right now” energy you need to have after buying all produce at the Redding Terminal.

Since I’ve lived in Philly, I’ve loved the Redding Terminal. It’s an amazing place to go and get some veggies that you need to eat immediately or they will go rotten, some fresh fried donuts filled with sugar, and all of the nuts and seeds that a home baker could possibly need. On our first date, Mario thought he had come up with the most unique idea for the afternoon. He decided that he was going to introduce me to the Redding Terminal Market for our date. What he didn’t know was that I went there every week to go grocery shopping. We did go to the Terminal that day. We had lunch at Down Home Diner and he told me all of the foods he was allergic to. Not the strongest first date chatter, but I thought it was funny. Even though I went there every week, it felt totally new to be there with someone I had a major crush on. My cousin is still sort of mad at me that I went out with Mario that day instead of spending time visiting with her, but I know I made the right choice. Sorry Liz!

Liz didn’t know this at the time, but she captured this picture of my last, first date. The afternoon date turned into a full on street party later that evening. You can tell this is a first date by how Mario has his arm around me and is almost, but not quite, touching my shoulder. Also, beautiful collar bones 2008 Patti!

Yesterday I was in the Redding Terminal again, carting around bread and an unrealistic amount of vegetables to eat before they go bad. I love being in this building and hearing what people are going to eat, or what they are excited to see. I love how many people are in line for cheesesteaks because they think “Philly” and think “cheesesteaks”. I love just feeling so smug that I know my way around in there. We know to wait until the hour before closing to get the $1 cookies, that there are seats in the back corner and to split the lemonade and pretzel. Everyone is usually happy and excited to be there and I love that energy. After walking around for a bit, I was standing in line for Thai food when I felt someone standing over my shoulder. There was an older woman, probably in her 70s, standing behind me. I said something awesome like “hey, if you are trying to decide, their salmon curry is supposed to be really good”. And then I realized that she was just standing there, crying. She told me that her husband had just passed away and that she used to come to the Redding Terminal all the time with him. I said I was so sorry to hear that he had passed away and for some reason, I couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her arm. Instead of flinching away or just sort of letting this whole “let’s touch a stranger idea” pass by, she just grabbed my hand and we stood there for a few minutes together.

She told me that they had 37 years together, and that it had been a wonderful life. I started to cry probably at the second sentence. I didn’t feel awkward at all. It made complete sense to me that her grief had just bubbled up and spilled over. She was trying to be out in the world, and the world was just loud and happy and ordering salmon curries and she was GRIEVING. And no matter where you are, or who is there, when you are in that level of grief, it will spill out. And you almost don’t care at who sees it because it just feels right and natural to talk about it all the time and cry with strangers and just be open and raw about how sad it is to lose someone that you love so much. There was a point where I wanted people to see me grieving- just ask me one more question… see how much I am hurting so you can see how much I loved… I wanted those who knew my parent had just died to get beyond the hellos and the “I’m so sorry”. Tell me something you loved about my Mom. Make it really specific and show me a part of her that I didn’t know. Help me remember my Dad and how he would say “Son of a seadog!” when he was frustrated. Help me move past remembering them sick and remember them the way you got to leave them in your memories- whole and happy.

I think Dad would have loved this. I was trying to take a picture of fall foliage and accidentally captured a father-son Star Wars duel in the middle of the woods.

At Dad’s funeral someone came up to me and told me this story about Dad and how they thought he was nice. The person had worked for Dad for years. He then said he would never forget how Dad said to him “Stop being a jackass”. Now that doesn’t seem like the nicest story to tell at a funeral. But to me, it was so specific and captured how Dad just really hated it if someone was “being helpless”. I loved it. This guy didn’t worry about making me extra sad- I was already sad! He just told a quick and funny story that showed he knew my Dad and got what Dad was about. When someone is grieving a huge loss, just be willing to sit with them and talk about how much that hurts. Just say “that is incredibly sad” and then wait and let the person cry and get ugly faced and don’t offer them tissues unless they ask. This is what happened with the lady at the Thai food place. She didn’t apologize. She didn’t cover it. She just let it be and so we shared this deep moment of intimate connection. Before she walked away and the guy at the Thai food place yelled that my food was ready, she said “thank you for talking to a stranger”. Of course that validated the 45 years of me talking to strangers.

I bought too many greens that day and then had salads for breakfast all week. Kind of great, kind of takes the fun out of the morning meal. Also, those aren’t bugs, just seeds.

I got my food and then walked away. But I thought about her again and again. She was wearing a long dress with an oversized zip up hoodie on top. And I thought how that might be her husband’s hoodie, and she was wearing it to feel like he was wrapped around her, the same way I feel when I wear my Dad’s old Army coat. I thought about this quick moment and whether I should have then asked to have lunch with her. Or if that moment was meant to be just that. But mostly, for one of the first times ever, I felt thankful for the grief I have known and how it has expanded my ability to hold another’s grief. How I know that to accompany someone on a really sad journey of grief is not scary or “too much”. I’m thankful for the times when my heart is open to ask more questions, to talk to strangers and to hold their arm.

Think I’m nuts? I might be. But here is a picture of tarts from St. Croix from my swim parent bestie. She and I talked about grief the very first time we talked. I walked away thinking “well, that’s a fun way to scare someone off” but instead, it started a deep friendship and now she brings me boxes of tarts and I eat them all.