In the coming days and months and probably longer, there will be many stories about what happened in Las Vegas. I hope so. I hope we hear the stories of the lives cut short and the lives spared because of the help of strangers. Listening at such times is ever so much more important than speaking. Though I do acknowledge that writing here I am speaking.
To me, this story, is what serving your neighbor can look like: a stranger staying with the body of a man she only met as he died so that his loved ones would know where he would be taken. She cared for his body in death as they had cared for him in life. Sometimes loving your fellow man is sitting with him in death.
Another survivor answered his phone and got his name. She tracked down his mother on social media and found out his girlfriend. She called his girlfriend and made her promise to stay.
Call me weird, but I think one of the most loving acts this stranger did was to write the man's name on his arm. This way, when she was eventually separated from him, she ensured that the others who would tend to him in his journey to back to his family would always know who he was. Maybe it was spur-of-the-moment. Maybe it was strategic. In either case, it was loving.
Another survivor answered his phone and got his name. She tracked down his mother on social media and found out his girlfriend. She called his girlfriend and made her promise to stay.
Call me weird, but I think one of the most loving acts this stranger did was to write the man's name on his arm. This way, when she was eventually separated from him, she ensured that the others who would tend to him in his journey to back to his family would always know who he was. Maybe it was spur-of-the-moment. Maybe it was strategic. In either case, it was loving.
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