My most recent project has me working from a medical center.  And something totally random happened the other day.

My morning started early.  I hadn’t had any sleep the night before.  I was leaving the building not to go home from an already long day at the office, but to rush to another work event that would last into the late evening.   Both shoulders armed with heavy bags, and an odd-shaped box in my hands, I hobbled to my car in a pair of [beautiful but not yet broken-in] heels under the merciless Vegas sun.  As I was crossing the street, I realized that what I thought was mumbling coming from the old woman walking with me in the same direction, wasn’t mumbling at all.  What I was hearing were whimpers and sad groaning.

I hesitated for a second, but I asked her if she was alright.  She looked at me, still walking, not even bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes and said “I’m going to die.”  Like an asshole, I replied, “We’re all dying really.”  She then explained that she just came from the cardiologist and she’s going to require surgery.  I told her that a lot of people undergo serious surgeries but spring back better than before.  “You’ll be fine,” I said.  I felt prepared to answer back with whatever generic, somewhat comforting words, to ensure she wouldn’t drive home with wet eyes.  She was sobbing now, and explained that she’s already had 4 bypasses and she’s not hopeful about this 5th one.

The world stopped then.

Not knowing how to respond, I stopped walking.  She did too.  We just looked at each other for a couple seconds, and I placed the box and both bags on the parking lot pavement.  I hugged her.  No words to reassure that things would be ok.  I embraced a stranger because I didn’t have the right words.  She stopped sobbing.  But my own sobbing started.

I don’t know this woman.  I don’t know if she’s going to be okay.  I thought that my hug would console her.  And maybe it did.  But what I quickly realized was I was hugging her not for her consolation, but to quiet my own worries.  To tell myself that things were going to be okay.  My own struggles, uncertainties, and insecurities are often hidden behind a wide toothy smile.  Or I will try to disappear so the less-content side of me isn’t seen.  But in that moment I didn’t care what side was shown.  That hug fixed things, even if for just a moment.  I think she knew it too.  That hug wasn’t for her.  It was for me.  The hug lasted for a good minute.  Life was less heavy for 60 seconds.  And she wiped my tears away for me.

I left the parking lot still thinking about the list of things I had to do and all the stuff I have to figure out.  And she likely left still terrified and uncertain of her own fate.

But I know that neither of us have to face it alone.