My lesson in caring.
A few short and devastating days ago, while the world slept, a precious and dear soul slipped away from us. At 4:00 am in the morning , I received an e mail that a dear, dear friend had tragically and suddenly passed away. And then, as China likes to do, I was cut off from any communications to the outside world, and disconnected from the universe. This passing fell on the heels of the death of a wonderful Uncle of mine, my Dads brother, and a man dearly loved by his children and grandchildren.
That was Saturday morning at 4:00 am.
By Saturday at 10:00 am, I was looking on line ready to book my flight home. I was ready to fold my tent, pack up my Gucci shoes and head outta here. Grieving is a process, I thought, made more manageable by proximity to people we know and love, and those with whom we share a history and experiences. I thought I needed to be around people who understood...and instead I’m with so many who simply see me as a “round eyed foreigner”.
By the end of the day on Monday, as I sauntered back to my apartment, preparing myself to wallow in my grief, a middle aged Chinese woman ran towards me yelling and frantic and indecipherable. Pulling on my arm, she led me to the building. Inside, we came upon a little Russian girl, no more than 5 years old, alone and lost; there were no parents to be seen anywhere.
I could see the distress and panic in the eyes of this precious child, and, as my maternal instincts are not too far in the distance, I hugged her with all my might, told her everything was going to be okay (did I actually believe that? I’m not sure) and opening my door to my apartment, I led her in to clean her up. We didn’t share a common language, aside from that of being strangers in a strange land.
So, I gave her a piece of gum, wiped the snot and tears from her face, coloured a picture of a princess and then decided it was time to find a parent. Her tiny little hand folded itself into mine, and we wandered down the street; me in my blue power blazer, and she in her purple paisley tights and light up shoes. It didn't take us long to wander to the local park where her Mother sat, completely unaware of her absence.
On this day, I wanted to believe that this little girl needed me to help her find her way home. I wanted to believe that her Mother would have been in complete distress had I not come to the rescue. I wanted to see the relief and gratefulness that would exist at the time of the re-union between Mom and child. What I quickly came to learn, however, is that maybe, just maybe, on this day, I needed her more than she needed me.
