First, some background: During one of my "girls-and-relationships" conversations with Stephen, he told me about a beautiful young woman he met at a subway stop on the D.C. Metro. She'd been listening to her iPod and they got to talking about music. Stephen told me they had major clickage. At the time, he was a cook at Black's restaurant in Bethesda, Maryland; she was working in an office building nearby.
As Stephen and I talked, he was lamenting that all he wanted was to have someone in his life he could love. He said he thought Metro Girl might be that person, but he didn't know how to connect with her.
"Why not?" I asked. "Didn't you get her digits? Her email?"
"Naw," he replied, shaking his head sadly.
"Dude! You should have gotten her email."
"Dad! I'm sorry. I thought I'd see her again, okay?" He was clearly annoyed with himself -- and with me for pointing out his egregious strategic error. But he agreed with me and resolved that if he ever saw her again, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Six months after he died, I found something he'd scrawled on a scrap of paper, undated, with only a few cross-outs. I think it might have been a rough draft of his updated strategy in case he ever met the girl of his dreams again. It's uniquely Stephen. I figure his plan was to carry it around and give it to her the next time they met -- if ever. It's a little fumbly-awkward, but charming, nonetheless. He wrote it as prose, but it feels poetic, so I've kept his words, but poeticized the format.
Here it is:
Before we had even exchanged words, you stood out,
Your beauty radiating with the essence of an angel
Whose light was a beacon to what was good.
In a cold wasteland of drifting souls,
You were a warm shot of whiskey.
It was a one in a million chance of us meeting,
And you are a woman who comes every million years,
Your warm eyes can tell no lies.
So many connections are lost in passing,
So why should this be one of them?
Perhaps we could meet again,
But I'll make it a little easier this time....
Sincerely,
Stephen
[Here he inserted his phone number]
As far as I know, he never saw her again. So, Metro Girl, this is for you -- wherever, and who ever, you are.
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I sat here for some time trying to reach a decision as to whether it would be appropriate to respond to your post after such considerable time had passed. However, the memory you shared of your conversation with your son over "Metro Girl", followed by your son's own thoughts put to paper, were so sweet and insightful ... and so filled with a father's love that I simply wanted to acknowledge that I read "Metro Girl" and I am wiser person for doing so.
I am so glad that you found his prose/poem. I am sure the loss of your son never gets easier, so may you and your family always find the strength and support you need.
Jeanne
This is such a sweet poem. Your son, Stephen, obviously had care about this girl a lot. I'm so happy for you that you have found one of Stephen's fond memories.
((((( Hugs )))))
Sandi Angel
Christine
life has a tendency of letting the people we feel an affinity for, slip away ...
For who is to say how they may have turned out?
Would our lives have turned out different?
Answers to questions we will never know.
Walt
from
Kay
Ron
I'm desperately sorry for your loss, and he looks just like you, your smile.
Blessings,
Christine
He was very gifted in his expression. God Bless Him, and you too...
Love, Diana...
May peace be upon you.
:) Janna
This is a wonderful memory of your son, I am very sorry for your loss he sounds like a fine son.
Budd
Cheers,
Dan
isn't it amazing how his words go out now as a reminder to so many to 'seize the day'...moment...hour. i like to imagine that the 'metro girl' will sometime read this and remember their encounter with regret that she too did not get the digits from this man on the subhappenstance