The Power of Gratitude: Finding Light in Life’s Challenges

The hall is deserted now, it wasn’t 10 minutes ago when it was filled and rowdy. The echoes from that time still ring in your head.

A couple of stragglers are wandering around and waiting.

I wonder what they are waiting for?

The floors are carpeted by used cups, paper and a myriad of the discarded.

A man with a slight limp, denim clothing and sandals, limps in and sits on a folding chair. He takes out a cigarette, doesn’t light it, but puts it between his lips regardless. He is perhaps in his late 60s, unshaven and in need of a hair brush or a cut.

He begins to mutter to himself.

“Celebrate the celebrations which matter the most. Love the ones who love and stand by you whatever the cost. Absorb every moment of love, those moments will keep you warm on cold midnight runs. Express and feel gratitude.”

He stands up, tosses his cigarette, still unlit, into a large trash can. Walks through the exit and is gone.

The hall is scattered now, with workers carrying equipment and cleaning up the evenings’ discarded moments.

The words from that man still echo within me and I am engulfed in a fog. A memory rises within me, being on the F train when an old lady preached to me without malice.

“You will go through life and experience wonder, beauty and sacred moments. Remember them and say, ‘thank you.’ with feeling and understanding of that gratitude. Because, life’s hardships, regardless of the size, will force you to forget. Force you to forget to breathe. This too shall pass is a two way street.”

She took a sip of her coffee and smiled. “This is really good coffee.” She paused.

“I express my gratitude to the place I bought this coffee, but mostly to my God. It’s a Jewish law that we should always say a blessing over the good and even over the terrible.”

She was short, had blue eyes and must’ve been a looker when she was younger.

“Don’t get me wrong. Life can be very difficult. There were times I would’ve given in to my melancholy but my faith kept me going. Also my mother once told me, when I was going through a dark time, one of my dark times in my life. She said, ‘Remember that’this to shall pass.’ she was right. My pain ebbed and before I knew it I was smiling again.”

“There is so much beauty all around us. The cherry blossoms, a stranger’s smile, a loved one’s embrace, physical or emotional. Music, dancing, walking in the snow, walking on a beach. Remember to say a thank you within and really mean it. Life is crazy, there are a lot of temporaries. The things that disturb you, subway delays, rainy picnic days or being stood up or not getting a job you needed, wanted. Looking back you will see them all as blessings because they will lead you to your future successes.”

She stood up and said, “I have a date with my friend to play bingo.” She smiled, “I am 89 years old, most, well, all of my friends that I once had have gone. I can either give up or I can move on. I’ve never been the ‘giving up kind.’” She smiled. “Never give up, as long as you are around when the sun rises, there should always be hope that the best is yet to come.” She walked towards the door, turned and said, “and say thank you and feel it.”

The subway doors closed and she was gone.

I sat there in the empty hall as the lights began to dim. I had to get up to leave before they locked me inside.

Something compelled me to stay. At the far end of the hall, I could swear I saw a younger me, jumping and running while children followed him, laughing. Once I was so relevant and important. Overnight, relevance and importance yielded to invisibility and inconsequential attendance.

Everyone once knew my name and I walked proud, loud and always smiling. That time has passed me and now my time is running short. The seconds hands on clocks are spinning wildly. The sun rises and just as quickly sets. I remember the old lady and her message of gratitude.

Walking out on the autumn chilled streets of Brooklyn, I see life all around me and an aroma escaping from a bakery somewhere. Leaves are floating to the ground joining their fallen brethren, creating a cacophony of colors that would rival any classic painting. In the distance I see my home and I am thankful. Truly grateful and I say a silent prayer. I smile and I walk on.

dedicated to Mrs Mae Singer