Reflections From The Kitchen Sink on Doing the Right Thing

Doing the Right Thing

I found myself divulging personal information to a man I really didn’t know in my driveway. He had come to try to repair something I had already paid someone else to repair, and as he was leaving, he struck up a conversation about my mower that was sitting beside the driveway.

I told him my dad had given me the mower when he moved several hours away. Dad decided to just buy one in his new city of choice, and I didn’t have a mower which made the gift a blessing for sure. We ventured into a few details about my father’s move: how it started a few years back as a result of my mom’s health deteriorating and Dad’s desperate attempt to get her help. Alzheimer’s just stinks. The move was also due to the need for daily help that one of my sisters provided. That’s when my visitor opened up and shared his story.

He told me about his mom and how her health needs had become more than he and his wife could take care of in their home and the decisions they were having to make. He told me of the guilt involved in making those choices. He shared about a sibling not living close and how the decisions were collaborative but still heavy because he was the one with primary “custody” of their parent.

As the conversation continued to unfold, the man learned a bit more about my situation: a “young” widow whose boys were 11 and 15 when their dad was killed, the 15-year-old on the autism spectrum with the myriad of health issues that go along with that—issues from epilepsy to GI issues and more. A woman with her own grocery list of health issues that forced an early retirement, and so forth. It’s amazing how the details just flowed out. At one point, I even heard myself almost from an observer’s perspective and wondered why in the world I was telling him so much.

Right after that, the stranger said to me, “You’re doing the right thing for your kids. That’s all you can do.”

What?! I thought. I have had scathing criticism for my choices from so many, and this man who I have physically laid eyes on three times for less than an hour total gives me a thumbs up?

Immediately, I have the nasty voice in my head say, “Well, he doesn’t know the whole story.”

“I don’t know everything about your situation,” he chimed in (yes, I was shocked, too!!), “but I’m telling you you’ve done right by your kids by keeping them here.”

“Is he a mind reader?” I silently asked. 

“I have another customer who has an autistic kid, and big changes are never good for her. Making a big shift after your husband was killed would’ve been very bad for your boy, I think,” my repairman friend said. He continued with several reasons why my choices to this point have been right as I stood in amazement. Never once did he say, “you need to” or “you should.”

In ten minutes, he had analyzed my life circumstances, identified the main conflicts in my heart, and provided more encouragement than a lot of people in whom my family previously placed so much confidence. I had an odd sense of peace partnered with a questioning of why other people just can’t see that I’m doing the best I know how. I’ve said it before: you don’t know what you don’t know. The new add-on those might need to be “so proceed with caution when offering advice.”

Just like with his situation. I am familiar with the challenges he’s facing but not from the first-person. I am presently the child who’s about a four-hour drive away from their parent and it stinks. I suggest respite times here and ask to be kept informed, but that is where my “advice” stops. I have friends who are the siblings on duty with their parents here while their brothers and sisters are the ones hours away. Observing those caregivers doesn’t give me the skill set to know without a doubt what could help most, what the best plan is. Each situation is unique. Whether you’re at bat or on base already, the main goal is still the same; your strategy and next steps are just different.

This morning, I sent Colin out to check the level of our pool water. We have a small leak and have to check the level regularly to make sure we don’t have a pump crisis while we work to correct the issue. He came in the house and said the pool was down about three feet. In a frenzy, I ran poolside and found the pool almost full—just down about an inch from last night. When I got Colin outside, he looked shocked then said, “Well, from my angle it looked low, but I guess it’s just the shadows and reflections casting a different view.”

Imagine that. In one minute of mayhem, my boy summed up all this stuff I was typing at the sink. Coincidence? I think not. 

Now, I will get a fresh cup of coffee, sit with not-my-dog Lola, and finish my quiet time before I tackle the day. 

Until next time…

Bio-Melinda Campbell is a retired educator who currently focuses her efforts on raising her two teenaged boys, advocating for individuals with special needs and against drunk driving, and serving in her local community. Melinda has been gaining recognition for her writings labeled “Reflections from my Kitchen Sink” since the tragic death of her husband Michael in 2015. In her stories, she shares observations from her daily life including moments she has as a solo parent, a widow, and a woman who battles significant health issues including fibromyalgia and depression. BIG ANNOUNCEMENT- New Kitchen Sink Merchandise-Click Here