Railroaders Memorial Museum

I used to work with people. It's been a long time since then, but I loved that job and I did it for quite a while. It was nice to spend my day trying to help people; even if the things I did weren't very important. I liked helping people, and when I got the chance to make someone happy it would make me happy too.

I got tall fast as a kid, and people always found me to be a little intimidating. To try to help with that I would smile and say hello in a very disarming way. I would do this silly kind of wave like I was making a rainbow shape across my chest, and I'd always say "good morning" no matter what time of day it was. Lots of people would correct me and I'd crack a smile and laugh and tell them "oh yeah, you're right!". I liked telling people that. People like to be told they're right, and they would often smile back at me.

I had lots of little routines that I would do to engage with the people who needed me. Sometimes it would be a mother with children and I would joke about how busy she must be. Sometimes it would be someone who was quite old and I would reminisce with them about how expensive things are. I memorized lots of quick little lines and puns. Sometimes people would laugh or smirk, many times people would be indifferent. That's ok, when you are looking for help you are not always in the mood for a joke. I would try very hard not to let my little quips get in the way of my job.

I learned that you can't help everyone. Some people have problems that are above what you can do for them, and some people have problems that can't be fixed by anything. It's hard to want to help and be unable. It's frustrating for them, and I hate to see them become frustrated. It motivated me to be proactive about addressing things I thought might cause problems for people, and to help people make their voice heard when they could not get their problems fixed. Occasionally this would even result in changes to the way things were done. Knowing that I had helped make things easier or better for people gave me a lot of satisfaction.

You know, I had a big family. I had parents and grandparents. I had a wonderful wife. I had cats and dogs. I had brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. I loved them all and they all loved me. When I found out I was going to die it was difficult to accept that I would not be around for them anymore, but with time came acceptance. I slowly stopped haunting my home and my family. They did so wonderfully without me, and I found a deep peace in seeing them thrive. I thought that I would move on once I stopped feeling compelled to see them.

I was surprised, then, to find myself back here. To find myself unable to make peace with the idea that I will never help anyone ever again. I won't ever see the relief I used to bring to people in a pinch. I won't say "good morning" at 3PM or see the flash of a smile when I make a lame joke about how babies keep you up at night. I will never be there with an answer when someone needs it, or to help give someone a voice when they feel frustrated and unheard. It seemed so small at the time, but now it's all I want in the whole world.

If I'm being Honest, I think that's why I'm telling you this: I just hope it helps.