The Gift of Mr. Lim

I made the decision, hesitated, then made my move. As I neared the small man he glanced toward me and quickly returned his gaze back to the floor. I tried to seem as non-threatening as possible, but I could sense an uneasiness build over the man causing his movements to quicken and his body grow slightly rigid. I could feel the apprehension seep from him, building a contentious wall between us. I wondered how many times this man had been approached by unsolicited visitors only to find that they wished to offer a complaint instead of companionship. By the way he was trying hard to ignore me, I guessed that a proposal of friendship was rare. I was, after all, a stranger and strangers in a strange land can be intimidating. But, this man and me had a connection. I just didn’t know how I would be able to explain the bond to him in a way that he would understand, let alone, accept.

I wasn’t a total stranger. He had seen me sitting in front of my computer as he cleaned the office where I work. We had nodded politely at each other in passing and even managed a few clumsy hello’s. Yet the small man always moved past me quickly before any other exchanges were born. He was a quiet, almost nervous person around me and my co-workers, always polite, but never anything more personal. I was hoping to cross an unseen bridge and become more than just an object of trepidation. I had never met this man, but I knew him. I knew him from my past and I loved him. He was, at least in my mind, very much like my grandfather.

“Hello Mr. Lim” I said quietly as I stood directly in front of him.

He slowly stopped his mopping and looked up at me with a surprised expression. As he was attempting to figure out how I knew his name, I offered a genuine smile and continued, “How are you doing tonight?”

Mr. Lim continued to stare at me and finally replied with a cautious “Okay.”

From the first time that I had seen Mr. Lim, I had seen reflections of my grandfather. They both emitted a quiet grace about them. They both worked hard at menial jobs, and they both took pride in their work. But, it was their eyes that really set them apart from others. While my grandfather’s eyes were a sparkling blue and Mr. Lim’s were a dark brown, they were the same eyes. Their eyes were pools of honesty that mirrored their soul. Each of these two men were gentle men as well as gentlemen. I guess that I have been looking for another person like my grandfather since he passed away many years ago. And now I had found him in Mr. Lim. I was hopeful that Mr. Lim wouldn’t think that I was crazy when I tried to explain to him the request that had taken me months to work up the courage to ask of him.

I can’t explain the feelings that had been building inside of me for the last several weeks, except that I was driven by the urge to re-visit a dearly loved memory from my childhood. I wanted to try to capture some of the magic that I had felt when my grandfather was working as a custodian after he had to give up farming because of his health. I wanted to reach out and touch the reminiscence of getting up in the dark of morning and going to work with grandpa. I wanted to again taste the homemade ham and cheese sandwiches that were washed down with brewed sweet tea. I wanted once more to be near my grandfather and to feel the inseparable link between us.

I didn’t know how to say this to Mr. Lim, a Korean immigrant who only spoke broken English, but I was driven by an internal longing to try.

“Mr. Lim…can I do that?” I asked pointing to the mop.

He didn’t understand me and started to look at the section of floor where he had been working on, thinking that I was scrutinizing his effort. 

I pointed at the mop and then myself. “No, Mr. Lim. Can I use the mop?”

This time he took a long look at me, confusion guiding his thoughts.

“My grandfather used to let me do that…when I was little.”

“Father?” Mr. Lim repeated.

Shaking my head and smiling, I tried again, “My mother’s…father”

“Mother?”

“No, mother’s…father.”

Mr. Lim was quiet for a bit, contemplating. And then, just like my grandfather, he understood me in a way that only a granddad can.

“You want?” he asked and then looked at the mop in his hand.

“Yes, please.”

Mr. Lim shrugged slightly then offered me the mop.

For a few precious minutes, as the swirls of water and soap glided over the surface of the floor, the memories washed over me. Each dip of the mop into the bucket brought another recollection to my mind. Each recollection brought comfort.

When I was finished I thanked Mr. Lim…and just like my grandfather…Mr. Lim gave me the gift of his smile.

Take care.