I Couldn't Help But Overhear

The café was crowded, but we decided to go ahead and get in line, anyway, hoping that maybe a couple of seats might become available by the time we got our coffee. Sure enough, two people got up just as we were getting ready to order, so I told my dad to get me a vanilla latte and I went to snag the open table before anyone else could. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the person behind me was also making a move for the table, but I had edged out just ahead of them. They stepped back in line as I sat down. I will never get to compete in the Olympics, but I have to imagine the feeling of snagging an open table in a crowded coffee shop comes close to the exhilaration of winning a gold medal in the 100 meters.

             I normally don’t like crowded places, especially someplace like this where you’re seated so close to the person next to you. It makes it hard to feel like you can have a private conversation. It’s just too easy for someone near you to listen in to what you are saying. It’s not like I’m ever sharing national security secrets or anything like that, it just feels invasive, that’s all, and I knew that our conversation had the potential of getting pretty personal.

             My mom had just recently passed away unexpectedly, and things had finally started to settle down. The services were over and the flow of visitors and well-wishers my dad had been receiving had begun to ease up. Now, rather he was ready or not, it was time to start getting used to this new phase in his life: widower.

             “How are you doing?” 

             “Oh, I’m doing okay,” he said. “I do have to tell you this, though.” Then he proceeded to tell me a story about a bird who sat with him and my brother the other day. He said that the two of them were sitting together on his back porch, just talking and hanging out, when this little blue bird landed right in between them. He said that it stayed there and seemed to be completely comfortable with the two of them. My brother even picked up a little stick and the bird hopped onto it. My brother pet the bird, and when he finally went to release it after several minutes by setting it on a nearby tree, the bird came back and perched itself back on the branch. Dad said that this bird stayed with them for about twenty minutes, and he even had a couple of pictures of my brother holding it.  “I’m not necessarily spiritual or anything like that,” he said, “But that was pretty hard to explain.” I agreed. That did seem pretty bizarre.

             “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear…” This is one of my all-time least favorite phrases because it’s disruptive and pretentious, and what usually follows is some sort of unsolicited advice or piece of information that rarely leaves me feeling more enlightened, but almost always more annoyed. This time the perpetrator was the guy who I had been pretending was not sitting less than a yard away from me for the last ten minutes. “You said that it was a little blue bird?”

“Yes, that’s right,” my dad said.

“It was probably an Indigo Bunting, and they are very friendly birds. They will often come up to humans, as well as other creatures. Although what you experienced was unquestionably wonderful, I highly doubt it was anything spiritual.”

“Now why would you say something like that?” I asked. “He just lost his wife, and if this helps ease the pain even just a little bit then where’s the harm in just letting it be?”

“Because I told you, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Yes, but you could help if you over stepped, which is exactly what you did.”

“If you overhear someone saying something and you have the opportunity to contribute a bit of information, then there is an obligation to do so,” the guy said. 

“No, there isn’t!” I argued. “You forced your way into a conversation that didn’t involve you because you wanted to show off that you know something about little blue birds!”

“Well, why would you even bring it up in the first place if you didn’t want it to be overheard? You had to know because of the close proximity in which we are all sitting from one another that someone was going to hear what you were saying.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to butt in and make my dad feel like an idiot.”

“I don’t really feel like an idiot,” my dad said.

 I looked back at the guy and said, “Well, great. Now he’s confused and doesn’t know what he feels. I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done.”

“Excuse me,” another woman sitting nearby said. “I couldn’t help but overhear…”

“Ma’am, please,” the bird expert said. “This really doesn’t involve you.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

The woman continued, “I happen to be a medium, and I know for a fact that spirits can absolutely visit us in the form of animals. So, sir,” she said turning to my dad, “I believe that was your wife coming to visit you. As a matter of fact, I know it was because I can sense her presence now, and she is confirming that it was her. She said that she gave you some sort of sign to let you know it was her, does that make any sense? Was there anything that happened while she was with you?”

“Well,” my dad thought. “She did poop on the chair next to me before she left. I had to spray it down to get it out.”

             The woman nodded. “Yes, she’s telling me that was it and that you would know what it means.”

“She did have irritable bowel syndrome, and she had to go to the bathroom all the time! It made it hard for us to be away from the house for too long.”

“Yep, that’s it! She did that to let you know it was her. She also wants you to know that her bowels are no longer irritable and that she is regular now.”

“Oh, good,” my dad said. “That’s nice to hear. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling at him.

The bird guy piped back up, “So you’re saying that there are just bird zombies flying around everywhere? That every time we see a bird we should just assume it is a deceased loved one?”

“Well, not you,” said that medium. “I’m getting the sense from the spirits around you that you’re not very liked. Let me ask you something, do you get stung by wasps often?”

“All the time,” he said.

“That is how your loved ones let you know they’re around.”

I apologized to my dad for all of the distractions and told him that we could leave if he wanted to.

“Of, it’s alright,” he said. “We can stay. It’s kind of nice being outside of the house for a change. Believe it or not, I’m actually enjoying this. It’s the first time I’ve really interacted with other people since your mom’s funeral.”

That made sense.  I decided I could put my irritation to the side for a moment if it meant that he was having a good time. I know how hard it had been for me since Mom died, so I could only imagine how life-changing it had been for him. So, if he was doing alright and getting a little distraction from what he had been going through, then it was good enough for me.

             “Please forgive me, I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m sorry to hear about your wife and your mom. What a terrible loss.” This was a guy who had just gotten his coffee from the counter and happened to be walking by when he must have heard us. “I lost my mom two years ago and I still think about her every day. I wish you moments of peace during your time of grief.”

             “Thank you so much,” my dad said. “That’s very kind of you.”

             “You’re welcome. I don’t mean to impose, but I do offer a service that can help make moments like these a little easier for grieving widowers to deal with.” He reached into the breast pocket of his blazer and set a business card down in front of dad. “There is absolutely no hurry, but whenever you are ready then please feel free to give me a call. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, and again, I offer my sincerest condolences.” And with that, he walked away.

             That gentleman’s kindness was refreshing. It was probably something I needed to hear at that moment. I smiled at Dad and asked him about the card.

             “It’s for an escort service,” he said. “That man’s a pimp.”

             “I hate people.”

             “Yeah, me too,” said Dad. “I think we can go now.” Then he put the card in his pocket and headed for the door.