This week has not been an easy one.
For the past several days, I’ve been thinking of someone. A woman. A mother. A soft, comforting smile. Someone I knew for 30, maybe 45 minutes. Someone I now realize I was meant to meet all along.
A week ago today, I left my husband’s grandmother’s funeral minutes after the service ended and hurried back to a Brookfield salon to meet up with my dear friend Becky and a handful of her bridesmaids. I walked in with just a minute or two to spare, and a sweet lady named Cary came to shake my hand. She would be doing my manicure, she smiled.
For the next half hour, maybe slightly more, we talked about our daughters. She has a 16-year-old, she said. I told her she looked far too young and fabulous to be the mother of a teenager. She smiled and said thank you.
I told her about Gracey. We talked about sleep deprivation, unconditional love, and how we constantly worry for our children’s safety. She admitted much of her worrying has passed — her daughter is a “really good kid,” she said. She told me her daughter is thinking of going to college for a degree in the medical field. “I’m trying to push her in the engineering direction,” she said. “She’s really good at math.”
We then spoke about providing our children with guidance as they choose their career paths. We talked about being working mothers. I told her I enjoyed coming to this salon because it’s the only one in the area open on Sundays — Sunday is often the only day I can find the time to do something for myself. “We hear that from a lot of moms,” she said. She then told me she works every other Sunday.
When my nails were finished, I thanked her for the nice job she did. We exchanged it-was-nice-to-meet-you’s and with that, our conversation was over.
I walked to the front desk — as I filled out the tip envelope, the receptionist said, “It’s Cary with a ‘C’ and a ‘y.'”
A C and a y, I thought as I wrote down her name. That’s an interesting way to spell it.
Flash forward to Sunday afternoon. I found myself in the parking lot of Brookfield Square, directly across the street from the same Brookfield salon, photographing the post-shooting chaos for the newspaper. “I was just there on Friday,” I told a few other journalists. I thought about Cary. I asked myself if she mentioned whether it was her Sunday to work.
Monday afternoon, the article came out with the three victims’ identities. I skimmed for the names as quickly as I could. And there, I saw it. Cary, spelled with a C and a y. “A hard-working mother from Racine,” the article said.
My heart dropped. Tears filled my eyes. I looked down at the polish on my nails. I thought about her smile. Most of all, I prayed for her daughter.
Cary’s sweet face hasn’t left my mind since. It’s been a strong reminder for me to hug the ones I love a thousand times a day. No matter how short your interactions with strangers, be authentic. Ask about those they love. Be kind. Be thankful.
By sharing this story, I have two hopes. My first hope is my words will somehow reach her daughter. I hope these words will help her heart heal just a little. Someday, she’ll realize the depth of her mother’s love. I, too, lost a parent when my brothers and I were too young, and if anything, I want Cary’s daughter to be reminded of how much her mother loved her. Cary was so incredibly proud of her — she shared her parental joys with even me, a complete stranger.
My second hope is to help — even in the smallest of ways — with the cost of her daughter’s career aspirations. Cary’s obituary said memorials to her family for her daughter’s education have been suggested. In light of this, I will be donating 20 percent of all services and/or products provided by love, katie photography from Nov. 15 through Dec. 15. Please pass along the word. To set up a photo session, send me an email (katie@lovekatiephotography.com), give me a call (262-527-2280), or send me a message through my contact form.
I wanted to end with a photo of my daughter and I. Last week, we had our family pictures taken by the wonderfully talented Jen Sexton Photography. I’m so thankful to have photos like this of Gracey and me. These memories are important, friends.
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