For the first time… It didn’t feel heavy anymore.
It felt full.
He’d been collecting moments.
Over the next week, I found myself replaying every conversation we’d shared.
The nurse whose husband had started baking sourdough bread.
The volunteer whose grandson had finally passed his driving test.
The cafeteria worker who always slipped an extra peppermint onto Thomas’s tray because she’d noticed he gave the first one away to nervous visitors.
I found myself replaying every conversation we’d shared.
He remembered everything.
One afternoon I’d asked him,
“How do you keep track of all these people?”
Thomas had smiled.
“I don’t.”
“You clearly do.”
“No.” He looked out the hospital window. “I just try to pay attention while they’re talking.”
He remembered everything.
At the time, I’d laughed.
Now… I understood.
Paying attention had been the way he loved people.
