I cried the entire last hour of work. Table 29: An older gentleman orders a coffee and pot roast. Once I turned his order in, I came back to freshen up his coffee, and I noticed a tiny little photo of him and his wife.

I kept quiet, but I knew what it meant. I served him his pot roast, and sat down next to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing with all my might. He was surprised at first, until I told him how sorry I was about his loss. His tears flowed like a waterfall, and so did mine.

I told him that he’s going to get through this pain and be joyous once again with her at his side soon enough, but not today. “I lost her, 60-years, and I lost her.” He could barely speak. I squeezed tighter.

I sat there for his entire meal, in silence, until his plate was clean. I cleaned the table off, out my arm out and walked him to the hostess stand and I paid for his meal, gave him the biggest hug I could, and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

He was so grateful, this was his and his wife’s day to go to my restaurant and have our pot roast together. He let me know how much it meant to him to have me sit with him. So I suggested that we make it an every Thursday thing, and he finally smiled.

This is why I fiercely love what I do, it’s not a job for me to care and tend to others, it’s a blessing beyond belief. Thank you Lord for this day.