COVID-19 teaches lessons of true strength

My friend Mike — a cancer patient — tripped and fell in front of a fast-food shop in Longmont in 2014.

He lay face down on the sidewalk while people walked past him.

Bill and I had met Mike at church — years ago — and we fell in love with this big bear hug of a man.

When Mike hugged you, you felt loved all day long.

Mike’s cancer diagnosis in 2013 came as a shock. But we remained hopeful.

As the owner of a small construction company he delegated responsibility to his grown son to free himself for chemo treatments and doctor visits.

The day of his fall, Mike left his home office to pick up lunch at a nearby sandwich shop.

After getting out of his car, he walked toward the shop but tripped on the curb and did a hard face plant.

It was lunch hour — people were rushed — and hurried. No one checked to see if he was OK.

Mike remained on the ground for a while, tr ying to get his bearings, then he eased to his side and managed to get on his feet.

I doubt he felt much like eating, but he bought the sandwich anyway.

When he told Bill and me of the incident, we felt sick.

Why did people walk past him?

Did they think he was drunk?

Or part of a scam? People are hesitant for so many reasons. Fear is the dominating factor.

We say to ourselves, “If I stop, I’ll be late for an appointment.”

We say to ourselves, “I don’t know him. Someone else will help.”

If Mike were dressed in a suit and tie, would someone help?

If passersby knew Mike was weak from cancer treatments, would someone have helped?

Mike died a few years after the incident — not from the fall, but from cancer.

I’d forgotten about Mike’s fall until last week while shopping at Ace Hardware.

A parade of snowblowers streamed out the store along with shovels, batteries and electric home heaters — in preparation for the blizzard.

Socially distancing maskwearing shoppers may have been 6 feet apart but a feeling of kinship made us feel closer.

We were fellow travelers bracing for the storm.

When two people approached a checkout line simultaneously, the refrain “You go first” echoed throughout the store.

This deference and kindness are not new to Loveland, yet that day it seemed more per vasive — more heartfelt — than usual.

I’ll bet if my friend Mike fell in front of Ace Hardware that day, a dozen people would have come to his aid.

No matter where he fell, I like to think someone would have rescued Mike.

I think this because COVID changed us.

We realize that we are all vulnerable. We depend on one another.

COVID has been a harsh teacher — more like a drill sergeant — but she taught us well.

The vaccine has given us a glimpse of light, but we remember the dark months when we lost friends or family.

And, as readers know, COVID is not through with us yet, and we’re not through with becoming the best we can become.

We are different now. We know we need each other.

Sometimes we pride ourselves on our strength, independence and self-sufficiency — and these are good qualities — but it helps to remember that true strength lifts others up.