The Train to Emmaus

While struggling to find a space on the train for my carry on bag, and aware that I am holding up the other passengers, I breathe in and lean in toward an empty seat to let them pass by.

As the train pulls out of Crewe station I hoist my bag onto the nearest empty seat and plop down next to it as I exhale. My eyes meet the sympathetic smiling gaze of an older lady sitting across the aisle. I smile back.

“You are very well put together”, she tells me, gesturing to my overall look.

I feel far from “put together” in that moment but I thank her, nevertheless, understanding that her remark is an invitation to connect.

And so begins our conversation that continues for the entire journey to London.

Suzy shares her story with me, of becoming a widow at the age of 44 and the shock of learning her husband had suffered an aneurism and dropped dead. She regrets not being able to tell him one last time how much she loved him. Now, married again, she is caring for her second husband who has some form of Parkinson’s and can no longer speak. She is grateful that she can show him and tell him each day, the love she has for him, “probably, a bit too often, sometimes” she adds with a chuckle.

“I don’t think it’s possible to love too much”, I tell her.

Two women, who only minutes before were strangers, are sharing their journey and their stories and lifting each other up.

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