I'm not sure why, but I've been reminiscing about something all day long. It is something that happened a long time ago, maybe when I was seven or eight years old, but it was a circumstance that impacted my life substantially.
As my great-Grandfather aged, he chose to live in a nursing home. His daughter-in-law, my Grandmother, would visit him several times a week, always taking him chewing tobacco and candy.
Grandma always took one of the grand kids with her, and on this particular day, I was the one to accompany her. Truthfully, I was a little frightened by my great-Grandfather because he would speak harshly to me sometimes. Not wanting to risk any chance of upsetting him, I decided to slip out in the hallway while they visited.
As I stood outside the doorway, I noticed a very small woman holding some dolls. I remember smiling at her and saying hello. She just stood there and stared at me, a very cold stare that scared me. Thinking I had done something wrong, I hightailed it back into the room and sat there on the bed, waiting for the visit to end.
When Gram and I entered the hallway to leave, the little old lady with the dolls was again in the hallway, looking at me. Not wanting to be rude, I told her goodbye. She continued to coldly stare at me.
When we got in the car, I asked Gram "why does that lady carry baby dolls? Does she have granddaughters?" Grandma simply replied "No. She doesn't have any granddaughter's." Gram said nothing more.
Hmmm. That just didn't make any sense.Why would a grown woman have dolls if she had no granddaughters? On top of that, Gram had stopped talking. Why had she stopped talking? Gram NEVER stopped talking!
I looked at her and said "then why does she carry baby dolls around?". This was just sheer craziness, adults don't play with dolls! Gram saw the confusion in my eyes and took a deep breath and said "Amy, her name is Haddie and she doesn't have any family, so she carries the dolls." Huh? NO family? Stunned and utterly confused, I asked "you mean she is an orphan?".
Normally a very quiet child unless something interested me, Gram knew if I was curious about this lady, I would not stop asking questions.
Gram looked at me and said "When Haddie was a little girl, she wasn't very smart. Back then, if a child was different, families were ashamed of them. Her family was embarrassed that Haddie was not like other children, so she grew up in the attic, away from people. She never learned how to talk."
Now, it was common knowledge Gram could stretch the truth a bit at times and this just sounded like a big old fib. I stopped talking and thought "I'll ask Grandpa. He always tells me the truth".
I waited for Gram to be out of earshot when I cornered Grandpa and whispered "There is a lady at the nursing home that carries dolls. Did she really grow up in the attic?". Grandpa looked at me with those sky blue eyes, full of sadness and thoughtfulness, and replied "Yes, baby, she did."
To say I was an extremely sensitive child is an understatement. When Grandpa told me it was true, I started to cry for the lady. How horrible! I imagined a little girl, scared and lonely, all alone in a dark, scary attic, with only a baby doll to love. To this day, I have a hard time believing that those types of occurrences happened more frequently than people know.
After I learned of Haddie's upbringing, I vowed that I would be her friend and love her, because everyone needed someone to love them.
Gram silently knew that I wanted to help this woman. Wanting to encourage this compassion in her grandchild, Gram started taking me every time we went to see great-Grandpa. I would pass by the nurses station, asking about Haddie. She would always quietly appear, standing there just staring at me, holding that doll on her shoulder. I would talk to her, my heart breaking at the cruelty this person had endured. Our eyes would lock and the cold stare silently gave way to a look. Sometimes, she would point at something and grunt. I don't know why, but this did not scare or unnerve me in any way and I understood she was trying to tell me something.
One day, for whatever reason, Haddie wasn't there. The nurses knew I was worried. As Gram and I finished visiting my great Grandfather, we entered into the hallway. Haddie suddenly appeared with her doll. With immense relief, I told her I was sorry we hadn't been able to visit and I would see her soon. She appeared to give what I thought was a smile, touched my arm to stop me and put her doll upon my shoulder. She then reached in her pocket and gave me a little crocheted circle. It was red and about the size of a half dollar. I was stunned.
That memory still touches my very soul. The fact that she trusted me enough to let me hold her beloved baby doll and then to give me a gift overwhelmed me with emotions. For some reason, it gave me such an overwhelming feeling of hope and love that I still can't completely articulate nor understand to this day. As far as the little red crocheted circle goes, I don't know if she made it, found it or where it came from but the fact that someone who had been so mistreated in life trusted a little girl and offered a friendship is a testament to the power of the human spirit. In that moment, Haddie changed my life forever.
Over the years, I have met some downright miserable people. Some are rude, some are mean, some have taken great pleasure in hurting others. One thing Haddie taught me through her silence is that people are not always what they seem. They may have been a victim of abuse, mistreated, or maybe have suffered immense loss in their lives, but when given the chance, they will share the beauty that lives within all of us.
When my great Grandfather died, we stopped going to the nursing home but I never forgot Haddie. I know the nurses continued to watch over her and treat her well, but I still missed seeing her. In my heart, I always hoped she knew that someone genuinely cared enough about her that they missed her.
The true irony of this story is the fact that a well intentioned child set out on a mission to be charitable and change a little old woman's life, and in humbling reality, Haddie changed mine. May each one of you that reads this be fortunate enough to have someone like Haddie impact your lives with such powerful, loving emotions that no words are necessary.
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