Snapshots of Dementia: The Kindness of Strangers

Snapshots of Dementia: The Kindness of Strangers
Saturday, January 14, 2023 by Marti

“You can’t leave that sticker on a package.”

The postal clerk across the counter from me may not have meant it as a rebuke, but nonetheless, I felt scolded.

“It tells us the contents are dangerous, and we can’t let it go on a plane.”

I knew right away what she meant. After I’d sealed up my package (a recycled box from the company that promises to deliver smiles), I noticed some stickers left over from its previous use. I pulled off the ones I could and used a black marker to scribble over the others. Good enough, right?

Wrong—as my postal clerk friend had so quickly informed me.

Great. Just great, I thought. I’m not only late sending this off to Mom, but now I’ll be even later.

I knew the “danger” sticker lay under the package-sealing tape I’d used on the box—the roll of tape that remained at home, along with the tools I would need to remove the tape and sticker.

I moved to reach across the counter and retrieve my box, but the clerk had more to say.

“If it can't go on a plane, your package won’t get there when it's supposed to."

I get it, lady, came my somewhat uncharitable thought. I know what I need to do. Please, just let me take it home.

But no, she had still more to tell me.

“Here, let me try to take it off for you,” she offered. “There’s no reason for you to have to go all the way home.”

What? Kindness? I wasn’t expecting kindness—especially when I’m the one who made the mistake.

She tugged at the edge of the offending sticker, ultimately getting out a pair of scissors to unseal the package, then using her fingernails to pick at the sticker until all the pieces had been removed.

Shen then pulled out a roll of tape, resealed my box, and prepared to send it on its way.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to do this,” I told her. “My husband has dementia, and I’m his caregiver, so it’s a big deal anytime I can get to the post office. Thank you so much for taking care of this so I don’t have to make two trips.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was a caregiver for my husband for five years before he died.”

She had more words for me about the stresses of caregiving while she finished getting the package ready for its journey. All this took a few extra minutes of her time—minutes she may not have had, considering the busy-ness of the post office—and I appreciated her kindness so much.

“I never do those [USPS] surveys,” I told her as she handed me my receipt, complete with the opportunity to participate in a survey. “But I’ll do one this time and mention how kind you were.”

“That’s nice of you, but really, don’t worry about it,” she said.

“But I want to.”

“Well, if you get home and you don’t have time, just forget about it. I know what being a caregiver is like.”

And then she gave me a final word that seemed unusually thoughtful: “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

I didn’t find time to do the survey for a few more days (she really did know what it’s like). But once again, God had gave me the opportunity to interact with a stranger—one who blessed me in ways she couldn’t have understood when she made her initial offer to remove the sticker.

I’d never seen that clerk before at our post office. And as I hurried back out to the car, I thought I heard a faint ringing of bells in the distance.

Could it be?

I may never know if I met an angel that day. But I do know I have a God who watches out for me. And as Tom and I continue on our dementia journey, I remain grateful for the kindness of strangers.

If you or someone you know is living with dementia, how have you experienced the kindness of strangers? How have you extended kindness to others along the way? Feel free to share your stories and thoughts in the comments below or on social media. Our story matters—and so does yours.

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