Our universe of everyday people
A passerby with a sunny disposition had a profound impact on Gerard as he reveals in this week's WordSmith column...
I see the ‘black dog’ most days and it’s far from depressed he is. In fact he’s the exact opposite, all happy and zappy as he and his human bounce by - the bond between them a joy to behold. The lady walks with a purposeful stride, her two little dogs trot loyally by her side; I’ve been told the dogs are brother and sister; recently I’ve noticed she only walks with one, I suspect a sibling has passed over the rainbow-bridge, sadly.
These people and their dogs are in my town, but they’re in your town, too. You know who I’m writing about. You’re in the car and late for work, but your side eye catches sight of the older man and his labrador on the same road at the same time; his appearance lends a routine reassurance to your busy world. I call this man and others like him our ‘Universe of Everyday People'. They’re the people we see on our walk, commute, or jog. We politely nod and acknowledge each other. They’re familiar to us, part of our everyday life. Yet, we don’t know them, they don’t know us; and there’s something reassuring about having a human connection without the complications of being involved in each other’s lives.
I vividly recall the day she walked into my universe with the calico-coloured Jack-Russell by her side. It was a grey day and I walked under a cloud of Monday morning melancholy. I’ve always had this Monday feeling, perhaps a hangover from my school days when Monday mornings meant double maths – HORROR! As we approached I saw sunshine, it was her smile. I slowed and said, “Happy Monday, if there is such a thing?” Her smile widened, “Yes there is,” she said, as she walked on by with her dog and sunny-disposition.
A strangers’ affirmation helped me walk away from my Monday blues. Over the following days I began to regularly see her and Toby the dog, always around the same spot at the same time. We’d exchange pleasantries, mostly about the weather. I always felt a calmness in her presence.
One day I saw concern on her face, she stopped to ask me about one of our mutual-universal-people, a woman who habitually walked our road, whose absence was noted. When I told her she’d died in sudden circumstances; we exchanged names and bonded over the loss of our fellow road-walker.
I began to look forward to my morning interactions with Daiva, they were always delightful. I loved how she spoke my name, “Good morning, Ger-rarrd”. The uplift at the end made me sound special. She became part of my everyday routine, the sight of her and Toby the dog gave: structure, stability, and a sense of control in our crazy world – and I’d like to think I provided something like the same to her.
One day I noticed she’d lost weight. I’d lost weight, too; and I’d become irritated when people pointed it out. One person stopped me, “You’ve lost a sight of weight, what’s up with you!?” The tone was accusatorial rather than concerned and it annoyed me. And so it was from this mindset I didn’t comment on Daiva’s weight-loss; besides, her demeanour was increasingly upbeat. I told myself, “Her weight-loss is as benign as mine.”
One morning stands out, again it was my nemesis: Monday. Daiva asked as usual, “How are you today, Ger-rrard?” I shook my head, “I hate Mondays!” She threw her arms wide and announced with her beautiful smile, “BUT YOU ARE ALIVE!”
That’s when I knew Daiva was leaving our universe; for in affirming my life she was saying goodbye to her own. In the following days I continued to see her and Toby and as always our exchanges were uplifting. Then the day came when Daiva was no longer there; we had no family or friends with whom I could connect, I mourned her loss alone.
But before Christmas last year I was walking home when I became aware of a man approaching, a new person in my universe of everyday people. He was walking a dog – it was Toby.
I stopped and said rather bluntly, “That’s Daiva’s dog, where is she?” He began to cry, “I lost my Angel, yesterday.” He was Daiva’s husband, and although a stranger to me I hugged him and we mourned her loss, together.
Daiva made a positive impact on me and many – she will always be our Universal-Angel.
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