So macho, but big Davie was just showing his love

There are countless reasons,

To be cheerful every day, Hobbies, TV programmes; Books, and games to play;

Bright flowers, sunshine, wildlife; Friends and family by your side,

So many things that nature,

Never fails to provide.

Catherine’s mum died 18 months ago. Last week, sadly, her dad followed her.

“He was the closest thing to indestructible I knew,” she told me. “In his 80s, he was still driving lorries and supplying supermarkets, having passed all of his tests repeatedly.”

But when she visited her parents’ house in the morning, she found him, seemingly asleep at the kitchen table, his hands clasped as if in prayer and tucked under his cheek.

“I can’t imagine it was a comfortable way to rest,” she told me. “In fact, mum used to tease him about snoring because he slept on his back.

“But... he used to talk fondly about me sleeping like that when I was little. I think he was delivering one last message. He knew I’d be the one to find him and he wanted me to know he hadn’t suffered – he was just going to sleep a while.”

“‘Oh, do you now?’ she said. And I can still remember the chill running down my spine!”

Forty years ago, Myra had been a trainee nurse, and the Sister had just overheard her telling a patient, “I know how you feel”.

“You telling the patient you know how they feel adds nothing to your knowledge,” the Sister had said. “Instead, you ask them how they feel, and you listen, and you incorporate that into how you treat the patient.”

“These days,” Myra told me, “I always listen. But not with a view to what medicine to give. I listen for what’s not being said. I listen for the hidden hurts, and I listen. Sometimes that’s all people need.”

“And what do you prescribe, having listened,” I asked.

“Kindness,” Myra replied.

“In large or small doses. But, invariably, kindness.”

I imagine Sister would be very proud to hear that.

Davie’s a big guy, and people expect a certain level of macho from him.

A story that has been told for the past 20 years is how he stepped off a bus and broke his ankle! Then he picked up his two-year-old daughter, put her on his shoulders, walked half a mile to the library, and walked half a mile back.

“I get teased a lot about that,” he told me. “People think I was either being tough, or really silly. But what they forget – and what I will always have mentioned – is that this was the first time my daughter ever saw her daddy hurt.

“I saw the colour drain from her face. And all I wanted in the world was to reassure her. So, we went to the library. Just like we had planned.”

So, it was really an act of love. But, still pretty macho, Davie!

Charli was transgender, disabled, and fell through the cracks in the social security system.

She honestly feared for her life if she was made homeless. So, I paid her rent for a while, told her to pay it forward...and never really expected to hear from her again.

Over the next five years, Charli worked hard and really improved her situation.

She regularly kept in touch, invariably telling me how she had helped to someone else. The latest instance was her buying a week’s worth of groceries for a single mum and her child while they were isolating.

She never accepts anything in return from the many people she helps, simply asking that they pay it forward.

You know, sometimes we invest in people knowing we won’t see a return. But every once in a while, like with Charli, it’s like paying a pound and winning the Kindness Lottery!