As I entered my eyes met a gentleman sitting at the first table. We acknowledged each other with a nod. He was a friendly looking sort, probably in his early 70s. I placed my order and found my way to a table along the wall where I could plug in my laptop. Since I had a little time I decided to work on a paper I was writing for my missions class. I had my books beside me. I was busily flipping back and forth between them as I wrote my paper. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone standing beside me. It was my friend from the first table. He stuck out his hand and said, "Hi, I'm David." I grasped his hand and told him my name. He immediately pointed at my books and asked, "What are you working on?" Thus started a long conversation.
I invited David to sit down. His hair was slightly disheveled and the creases in his face told a story of many years. As he began to speak, I noticed his teeth were worn in an uneven pattern. "I was born in Dalton, Georgia." He began. "Went to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and sold carpet for 40 years," He volunteered. As we talked I began to sense that David was suffering from a level of dementia. We talked about my paper and more specifically, I told him my story and how I became a follower of Christ and ultimately enrolled in a Master class at Liberty University. David asked question after question and followed each one with, "I need to learn more about that." He had a small pad with him and he would write down things we talked about in great detail with his large, unsteady hand.
I asked if he was here with anyone. He told me that his daughter had dropped him off on the way to a meeting and would be back in a couple of hours. I asked if he lived with her and he said that he did. "I decided it was best for me to live with her family at this time in my life", he said. He didn't elaborate, but the look we shared communicated what was not said. He politely thanked me and excused himself back to his table.
As I got up to leave, I stopped at his table and reached out my hand to say goodbye. He grasped my hand firmly, looked at me through squinted eyes and said, "I talked to you didn't I?" I replied, "Yes you did David. My name is Barry." He looked at his book, put a mark beside my name and said, "Oh yes. I have you right here. I will remember you."
I don't think David will remember me. I'm sure he will not, but at least he has my name written in his book and he has the details of our conversation written down. David may not remember me, but I will never forget David.
I invited David to sit down. His hair was slightly disheveled and the creases in his face told a story of many years. As he began to speak, I noticed his teeth were worn in an uneven pattern. "I was born in Dalton, Georgia." He began. "Went to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and sold carpet for 40 years," He volunteered. As we talked I began to sense that David was suffering from a level of dementia. We talked about my paper and more specifically, I told him my story and how I became a follower of Christ and ultimately enrolled in a Master class at Liberty University. David asked question after question and followed each one with, "I need to learn more about that." He had a small pad with him and he would write down things we talked about in great detail with his large, unsteady hand.
I asked if he was here with anyone. He told me that his daughter had dropped him off on the way to a meeting and would be back in a couple of hours. I asked if he lived with her and he said that he did. "I decided it was best for me to live with her family at this time in my life", he said. He didn't elaborate, but the look we shared communicated what was not said. He politely thanked me and excused himself back to his table.
As I got up to leave, I stopped at his table and reached out my hand to say goodbye. He grasped my hand firmly, looked at me through squinted eyes and said, "I talked to you didn't I?" I replied, "Yes you did David. My name is Barry." He looked at his book, put a mark beside my name and said, "Oh yes. I have you right here. I will remember you."
I don't think David will remember me. I'm sure he will not, but at least he has my name written in his book and he has the details of our conversation written down. David may not remember me, but I will never forget David.
