It’s Always The Little Things

Lisa Thomas • September 20, 2017

It had been a while since I’d seen him, unless you count the night he was pushing his buggy across the parking lot at Wal-Mart, and that was only from a distance.  I remembered thinking about how his wife once made those trips, but her illness and then her death had forced him to shop for himself—just one of many mundane, daily tasks he was now called upon to perform.

On this day business required that we meet—his business, not mine.  I was in need of his services so an appointment was made, one I didn’t particularly relish keeping.  But in spite of my apprehension, I also looked forward to seeing him.  He and his wife had been good friends with my parents for more years than I could possibly remember.  Seeing him again reminded me of that friendship and gave us the opportunity not only to visit but to reminisce as well.  He recounted tales of my dad I’d never heard and spoke of his admiration for my mother and her insistence that everything always be done just so.  I thought of their friendship and the years it had spanned—and how sorrowful my parents would have been at the death of his wife had they not preceded her.  She was such a kind soul, gracious and with a true gift for making people comfortable in her presence.  The world had grown a little dimmer with her passing and I knew her absence weighed heavily on him.

The time came for me to leave and, just before I headed out the door, I turned and impulsively told him I needed a hug.  He wrapped both arms around me, as I did him, and we stood for a moment, I believe each of us drawing comfort from the other over shared losses.  As we separated, he looked at me, eyes red with emotion, and said, “It’s the hugs I miss the most.  Every morning she’d come down the stairs and hug me before I left for work.  I miss those hugs.”

It’s the little things, people.  It’s always the little things that mean the most, certainly when you have them, but especially when you don’t.

By Lisa Thomas July 10, 2025
Facebook is like the double-edged sword of social media. On the one hand, it can be the spreader of good news . . . But it also serves as the bearer of all that is bad.
By Lisa Thomas July 2, 2025
I don’t actually know how Facebook decides what I like or what topics might be of interest. It’s understood there is some mysterious algorithm quietly running in the background . . .
By Lisa Thomas June 25, 2025
With her head bent low and her eyes laser-focused on the sidewalk before her, she slowly made her way around the park. Step by step, one foot in front of the other.
By Lisa Thomas June 18, 2025
It was dark outside when the phone rang; a glance at the clock revealed the day was still in its infancy, which explained why the funeral director’s brain did not want to engage. Years of experience prevailed however, and he answered the call, finding on the other end of the line a hospice nurse requesting their services for a death that had occurred in a home.
By Lisa Thomas June 11, 2025
In honor of the upcoming day of celebration for fathers everywhere (or at least in the United States and a few other countries), how ‘bout we look at some fun facts and/or interesting tidbits regarding the holiday and dads in general?
By Lisa Thomas June 5, 2025
It was 1972 . . . a Sunday in April when Don Price and his brother Laverne decided to go swimming at Pickwick Lake. Don was finishing up his Junior year at Central High School in Savannah and had been voted Most Athletic and Best All Around by the students there.
By Lisa Thomas May 29, 2025
The years and the connections they shared compelled her to attend the service acknowledging the end of his time on this earthly plane. There was just one problem. She had a three-year old . . . and funeral masses are usually not well tolerated by such creatures . . .
By Lisa Thomas May 21, 2025
For the past several years I’ve taken the week before Memorial Day to focus on a few members of our military who lived in our area—and who gave their lives in service to our country.
By Lisa Thomas May 15, 2025
My maternal grandmother was a fiercely independent soul, having been born and raised on a farm in the New Hope community of rural Hardin County, Tennessee. She made up for her lack of travel experiences by marrying my grandfather who worked for TVA during their years of dam construction across the southern United States.
By Lisa Thomas May 8, 2025
It was late one Saturday afternoon when the guests gathered beneath the boughs of an ancient oak. They had come to celebrate the beginning of a life together for two young people they all knew and loved, but before the ceremony began with the official seating of the grandparents and parents of the bride and groom, a woman walked down the aisle, carrying sunflowers which she gently laid in a chair at the front.
More Posts