Why I Cried Buckets Full at the Post Office -

Today I went to the local post office….and cried. It wasn’t because it was time to pay my taxes. It wasn’t because I had a big bill to pay. The reason I cried is because the postmaster I knew and loved passed away from a heart attack.

When I say I loved him, I loved him as a friend and a community member that I valued. His name was Glen. Let me tell you a little bit about him.

Basketball

When our twins were in high school the local radio station covered every basketball game. Glen and my friend Mike, covered all the games. Glen voice wasn’t really a “radio voice” but he loved all the boys who played and it showed. Mike did, too, and together there was such a “small town….my town” vibe to it that we all loved listening to them.

Another reason I loved Glen was because he was one of those folks who every time you saw him he wanted to know how each and every member of your family was doing.

Every. Single. Time.

The last time I saw Glen I was at the grocery store. He smiled really big and said, “Hey, Teresa. Tell me all about your family! How is everyone doing?”

People like Glen are what makes living in a small town so wonderful.

The Post Office

I don’t go to the post office often. Only when I get a message saying a package wouldn’t fit in my mailbox. I got one last week and drove there with a heavy heart. I thought I would be okay. I went in and there was a really young girl who asked me if she could help me. I handed her the ticket for my package and tears were streaming down my face.

She brought me the package and when she saw I was crying she asked, “What’s the matter?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “I miss Glen.”

I have no idea if she understood or not but she smiled and said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” I said. “Me, too.”