Real love on Valentines Day
Thursday 14th February 2019 @ 4:25 pm
It can be hard to read the news sometimes. When I read last night that a 100 year old women who had survived a concentration camp during the 2nd World War, was killed as the result of being mugged by a heroin addict – a man roughly the same age as me – I wanted to put his head through the nearest wall.
I was profoundly sad.
I was at my worst as a human being, not even for a second wanting to show compassion or try to understand his addiction or his life. I was just gut–wrenchingly sad.
I don’t feel at my most human best in those moments.
Other moments provoke similar responses within me.
These other moments (as previously confessed on this blog) more often that not take place on Dublin roads (recently discovered to be 3rd worst city IN THE WORLD for congestion.)
Stupid people on bikes cycling any way they want.
Stupid pedestrians running over whatever road they want whatever way they want.
Busses. Oh good grief the speed of Dublin Bus drivers is amongst some of the most bullying behaviour I have ever witnessed.
And the taxi drivers …
don’t even start me on the taxi drivers …
… arrogant, uncaring for the general polite rules of the road, in their own little bubble of reality blissfully unaware of anything going on around them.
And then, last night this happened.
The devastated family of a Dublin student who was tragically killed a short while ago in an accident on this island arrived from a country on the other side of the world. They came to grieve, to experience their sons final months and days, they came to see, to feel, to smell, to touch and taste the land where their beloved child breathed his last.
They arrive at the airport, after a long long journey, emotional and tearful.
It turns out the ‘boss’ at the head of the taxi queue at the airport (a queue which had over 20 people waiting) once he heard of their situation, moves a barrier, jumps into the middle of the road and whistles a large cab straight to them. They are quickly able to depart and set out for the hotel that will be their base – and hopefully their comfort during these arduous and traumatic days.
As they are driving to the hotel, the taxi driver asked them why they travelled to Ireland. They have no choice or no will to say anything other than the truth.
They tell him about their son, they tell him about the tragic accident which claimed his life.
And when they arrive at the hotel, the taxi driver will not take any payment from them. not one cent.
Kindness beyond words.
A genuine loving action.
From a Dublin taxi driver.
That might just be what I need to give them all a break – I might try to learn to hold my frustration with them, because the next time a taxi pulls out in front of me, it actually might be that taxi driver, and he deserves my respect.
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