The Comfort of Strangers: Seatmates, Part 1

Have you ever had a stranger appear in your life at just the right moment and provide the help or comfort that effectively changed the course of the day? I had two such episodes over the course of a month’s time, and today you’re going to read about the first one. (Stay tuned for Part 2.)

Traveling through an airport alone can be challenging. Traveling alone when you’re troubled or upset raises the stakes even more. And if those same factors are in play and you’re toting a loved one’s ashes, well…

Let’s just say I knew it was going to be a rough day. 

A few weeks had passed since my husband died from complications due to his 2022 cancer surgery. At the time, I had the funeral home place his cremains in a beautiful wooden box adorned with an insignia to honor his military service in Viet Nam. They placed the wooden box – for which I paid dearly – containing his ashes inside a white carton made of special packaging material. On the exterior of that carton, large block lettering clearly stated its contents. For safe measure, the carton was then placed inside a cobalt blue tote bag on which the funeral parlor’s name and logo was obvious. 

The funeral director had warned me.

“Do not check any of this in your luggage. It must be hand carried per federal laws. You’re going to need to tell TSA about the package, and they will pull you into a special area to be screened.”

Even in the fog of my widow’s brain, I remembered what the funeral director had detailed. Knowing what protocol was ahead of me barely eased the anxiety that mounted as the moment approached.

So, there I was, alone, traveling back to Chicago for my husband’s funeral Mass with this heavy and bulky blue tote bag. Sweating and heart rate soaring, I placed my precious cargo atop my roller board and pulled it through the maze-like TSA lines (yes, I was TSA prechecked and flying First Class, but it was also a spring break week during Sarasota’s “season”).

As was predicted, I was respectfully pulled into a special area where the TSA agent unloaded the tote bag and carton and sent it through the scanner. I watched horrified as she swabbed specially treated cloths (alcohol?) over every inch of the varnished wooden box. Believe me it took every ounce of self-control to not shout at the agent. I was certain her efforts had ruined the finish on the box. I purchased the impressive box out of respect and love for my husband, so after all that effort I feared that it was going to look stained and streaked at Mass. (It’s like getting your hair done for a special party and being pelted by raindrops as you run into the venue.)

The TSA agent reassembled my complicated package, expressed her condolences, and walked off. Once again, I secured the tote bag atop my luggage and charged off to the gate a sweating, shaking mess. I boarded in the first group. Because of the aircraft’s sleek design, it became clear immediately that my precious cargo wasn’t going to fit over head or under the seat. The color left my face.

I pointed to the blue tote, whispering to the stewardess, “I’m traveling with my husband’s cremains.” Taking a deep breath, I pointed to the overhead bin. “It’s not going to fit.”

In the moment it took for her to scoop up my cargo and place it gently in the coat closet, my future seatmate signaled to the flight attendant.

His voice was clear and commanding. “She will have a large pour of red wine and so will I.”

For the next few hours, my new friend shared with me how he and his wife had carried the same precious cargo through an airport and onto a plane. Not for either of their parents but for their only son who had died under similar circumstances as my late husband.

How is it that we can bond so completely and share so honestly with strangers? And how do these caring souls arise from the abyss of mayhem and present themselves just when we need them?

I can only offer this for an answer.

There will always be challenges – some annoying and inconvenient, and others just plain debilitating and gut wrenching – but it is my experience that there is usually a stranger who plays a role in making the situation better, less onerous, almost pleasant. And if they are willing to make the effort and we are open to receiving their kindness, those Sir Galahads and Glinda the Good Witches do provide a kernel of pleasure when we need it most. 

Of course, turnabout is fair play. At some point, even when it’s not convenient, paying it forward is the moral thing to do. 

Follow Me Here

On March 14th, Melissa Brunetti, host of the Mind Your Own Karma-The Adoption Chronicles Podcast will talk with Julie about her adoption story and its takeaways.

Also on March 14, Julie will meet with Karen Ianello’s Book Club on Longboat Key to discuss her debut memoir, Twice a Daughter: A Search for Identity, Family, and Belonging.

On April 16th, Julie will speak with Gurds Hundal, host of the UK based podcast, Inner Light Project.

On April 18th, Julie will guest on the Trauma Survivorhood Podcast with Sarah Miley.

On May 4th, Julie will talk about trauma, grief, and healing with Torie on the Be VicTorieus podcast. 

On May 15th,  the Book Club at Pottawattomie Country Club in Michigan City, Indiana will host Julie’s discussion of her memoir, Twice a Daughter. Jennifer, Julie’s twin sister and major character in her memoir, will share the stage for an unforgettable discussion.

To listen to other podcasts where Julie shares about her books, adoption story, and perspectives on all things related to identity, family, and belonging, go here (the media tab on her website).

In Other News:

Belonging Matters was named a winner of Books Shelf Nonfiction Writing Contest, and it received a Five-star book review from the Book Revue.

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