The event was brief but indelibly memorable, lasting mere minutes and long ago when he was a 10 year old boy who needed help, and it came in an unexpected way.
The boy lived on a farm with other family members.  It was a family dominated in a good way by his father who taught him many lessons one being to carry his load of the responsibilities that was needed to make a living. The family did not lack for the necessities, but there was nothing extravagant about their life style.  Maybe poor would not have been a word the members would have chosen to describe their condition.  They were rich however in another way; love and respect were present even though at times the boy might have questioned this designation because farm life was hard while he felt other boys who lived in town had more freedom to enjoy life that is, to be able to play with their nearby neighbors who lived down the street.  He longed to be a carefree ‘boy’ with time for such activities, but farm life was more demanding out of necessity.  First things first.
Now middle aged with a wife, children and a business, he recalls that life changing day with vivid intensity. He and his father were sitting in what might be called a den today, it was evening and the father was resting after a long day working in the field, reading the newspaper.  It was such a normal scene when abruptly he was startled by the actions of his father who suddenly fell over from his chair, the newspaper fell from his lap, and he ended up on the floor speechless.  Other than the noise of the unexpected fall, there was no sound to be heard.  Everything became eerily still.
Immediately he realized that something was badly wrong.  He hurried to his father’s side and questioned him but got no reply.  By that time others had heard his anguished cry and came running to see what the matter was. No one seemed to know what to do; there was no way to get in touch with anyone, there was no telephone so the boy was sent to get help from a neighbor whose arrival changed nothing.  A heart attack had altered the family forever; the breadwinner did not survive.
Within a short time, the news of the tragedy became known and many came to the house to offer sympathy and assistance.  Their immediate attention was aimed at the mother and except for a few of his friends, he was lost in the confusion of the day.  Overwhelmed by the loss he found the only solace available; he went to his room and covered his head, hoping to shut out the scenes he had just witnessed but with little success.  All he could do was cry and then cry again until the tears seemed to cease. And then he heard a soft voice and felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He was alert but still had the cover around his head yet he was aware of a soothing voice which reminded him that he was not alone, that his friends and family were nearby and that he need not fear even though the lost was beyond comprehension.  Oddly it seemed to offer him relief especially as he felt the hands of this unknown person rubbing his back and shoulders until he somehow escaped reality and slept. But who was she?
Later he asked others the identity of this unknown comforter who brought a sense of peace to his wrecked life but no one knew.  The scene at the home then was after all somewhat chaotic.  He had to know and over the years made further inquires but to no avail.
Years later, a friend died and he went to the home of the deceased to pay his respects only to be greeted by a casual acquaintance.  Small talk followed and both agreed that such times were difficult for everyone, and he was led to tell the story of how he had once been helped in a similar situation.  His quest to identify the friend in need was unending he stated  although he now had his doubts about ever learning her name.
And then he felt a hand rubbing his shoulder in a long forgotten but familiar way.  It was a signal, a clue, a miracle that his search had ended.  The person who had just greeted him was the one who had come to his rescue in the time of one of his greatest needs.
Resolution, finally!
Bill Lee, PO Box 128,
Hamer, SC 29547