The Stranger's Answer I Can't Stop Thinking About

I walked briskly hoping I could make it to the building before the designated start time. I wanted to be able to pick a seat of my choice. As I hurried past the greeters at the door, I knew I was late. The loudspeakers on the corridor echoed the welcome speech.

I walked speedily up the stairs composing myself quickly as I got to the hall entrance. There was no back door. This meant everyone saw you as you walked in. Jeez! I wasn’t going to do the dance of looking for an empty seat. Not today, devil. So, I took the first one I saw — the left-most seat on the second row.

I immediately began to mourn not getting the perfect seat, one miles behind by the walkway. From there I'd see the heads of almost everyone, their reactions and their mannerisms. I'd have a field day dissecting the room as well as the speaker (I know I'm not the only one who does this, so you can quit the judging).

The voice of the speaker jolted me back to reality. Little did I know that what would follow next would be mind boggling enough to earn a place on my next piece.

Turn to Your Neighbour

"I'm going to be speaking about the parent-child relationship today," the speaker began. "Before I proceed, I'd like you to turn to your neighbour and share one thing you picked up from your parents that has helped you or stuck with you till now."

That's easy, I thought to myself. My challenge was where to begin. The list in my head was unending, and I started working out which lesson would take the shortest time to share.

In a country where the police stopped your car to ask for a bribe, or kept you on the road needlessly looking for something to charge you with, my dad always showed his papers, greeted them nicely, and said he had no money to give. He was so consistent that whenever we got stopped, my brothers and I already knew how it would unfold, what the back and forth would look like, and how long we'd spend on the road before being sent on our way. He modelled integrity to us, and we all grew up knowing we could make it in life without cheating or bribing our way through.

Or was it my mum? When she asked you to do a chore and you complained, she'd say, "I don't recall asking you how you felt," or "You'd have been half way done if you spent this time doing instead of complaining." I got so used to it that I'd just focus on what needed to be done and get it done as fast as possible. If I didn't do it well, I'd be hounded with "Anything worth doing is what?" — and I'd have to answer, "…worth doing well." To save myself the embarrassment, I did things well and quickly the first time.

This built a sense of urgency in me, paired with a desire for excellence. In my professional career, I've frequently been described as someone with high agency and excellent output.

Anyway, I shared the story about my mum with my two seat neighbours. They both listened attentively. When I was done, my immediate neighbour asked the guy on his right for his own story. I sat up, eager to hear it. He smiled, then began to stutter, then went quiet, then tried to speak again, then smiled again, then said, "I'm sorry, I can't think of anything."

Huh? Did I hear correctly? What do you mean you can't think of anything? For a second there, I thought he was playing a prank on us. Alas, he wasn't. "Oh, okay," I muttered. Well, my other neighbour should have something to move us past the awkwardness, so we both turned to him. It was his turn.

He said, "My dad was a violent man." I almost collapsed in my seat. Is this a dream? I heard my mum's voice in my head: "Compose yourself." She said that a lot to me when I was a teenager. So I composed myself. I kept a straight face. I did not show my disbelief. I stayed in the moment.

"He hurt everyone around him," he continued. "What about your mum?" the other guy asked. "She drank a lot and was usually out and about. I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything they passed on to me that has helped me." He looked towards me and ended with, "I'm glad you had a good experience with your parents."

My heart sank. A million thoughts ran through my mind at once. Should I have been more modest when talking about my own parents? I had even begun with, "There's a lot. I need to think about which to share." It hadn't crossed my mind that the next person's experience could be the complete opposite.

My parents were far from perfect. Hell, I'm a parent, and I'm extremely far from perfect. But I learned a lot from them, and I hope my kids never have to think so hard to come up with just one lesson that helped shape who they become.

I was short of words after hearing both men speak. When the meeting was over, they both hugged each other. In that moment, I understood what it means to find someone who understands what you’ve been through, even if it’s just for a split second. I was glad that at least, they had each other.

It's been almost a week and I haven't stopped thinking about that meeting. It was probably fate that I was late and didn't get my preferred seat.

My hardest choice that morning was which lesson to share. Theirs was finding a single one.