Kentucky History and Genealogy Network, Inc.
Date With an Angel
My teenage years were spent working at a grocery store when I first started my young career. I worked hard and I was quick to learn. I had people skills, passed down from teachings from my family, and it wasn’t long before I became an assistant manager working the night shift.
Twice a week I would work early so the other managers could get their days off. The customers remembered my schedule and some would come in just to talk, pick up a loaf of bread, pop or milk and get caught up on the neighborhood news. It was a routine with many and I enjoyed many conversations with them in between getting my responsibilities done. One thing I was very big on was greeting the customers so they would feel welcome and would always asked if they needed help with anything. I would give the customers nickname, a habit I had learned from my grandfather, and I began to notice that on my shift I had my own clientele arranged specifically around my shifts.
One customer that really stuck out to me was a very young lady in her mid twenties. She was married with two children and spoke often of her kids and/or her husband. She would come in and I made a point to greet her because she would many times ask for suggestions of what to cook for her family that evening. I began a habit of keeping recipes and would copy them for people who were interested. She became a regular on the recipes and she always stopped me to see any new recipes I may have thought to bring in new for that day.
One particular day she came in and I was really busy that day. I think I was getting ready for a big sale the next day or something. She came in this day and glanced at the recipes and then scurried along her way as if she was in some big hurry. I spoke to her and she spoke back and checked out. I felt the strangest feeling when she walked away. It was a very deep lonely feeling as if she may be moving away or something.
When she left the store that day she pulled up to the main road a short distance away and pulled out in front of a big truck. She was killed instantly. When everyone found out about this I had the feeling that I knew this would happen that day. It was the strangest feeling I ever had.
I struggled for several months after that with her death. I often wondered if I had taken the time to talk to her that day, like it always had been, if things would have been different. If “only for a minute” I had taken that time to talk to her about the dinner she was going to prepare would it have made a difference. The young lady left a husband and two young children.
Author; Marty Wyatt