I saw Fatima yesterday. I had, in my wounded and sorrowful way, completely forgotten about this woman. I wish I hadn't but its no surprise that I did. I saw her as I was completing my shopping in the neighborhood yesterday.

I met her at Seattle Medical, etc etc. the skilled nursing facility where Stu was living the last year plus of his life. She visited her son there, on the same floor. I don't remember when, but she introduced herself to me. And later let me know, graciously and sweetly, that she had done me an honor by introducing herself by her first name - not common in her culture. (And I forget exactly where she was from, but it was not obvious.) Still, she was, and is, a devout Muslim woman, and informality,especially with people who aren't of your community, is often not common. She was impressed, even thrilled, that I managed (managed?) to pronounce her name correctly. I told her it was easy, I told her names mattered to me, and I let her know I knew who, in her faith, Fatima was. (the daughter of Mohammed). FA-tima, not FaTIma. Easy, no? But a big deal to her.

We checked in with each other a lot, mostly just saying hello (her son's room was on the opposite side of the floor from where Stu was) but she was unfailingly good to be around. She always dressed "modestly"- I only ever saw and touched - yes - her hands and her face. She always had a long dress and head scarf. I let her know Stu and I were Jewish. I thought that would bond us in a way, and it did. We talked a bit about how much we had in common, not how different we were.

She would try to feed me, always sharing whatever food she had, urging me to take cantaloupe or grapes. It very much reminded me of "eat, eat, bubbeleh" times from my youth. I was able once to do her a favor when the facility's water was turned off and she was concerned about washing her hands. I was happy that that day, like most, I had a bottle of water with me that I could give her. I was vaguely aware of customs of cleanliness before prayer, and knew that she prayed every day.

We didn't always connect. i did not see her the last day I was there at Seattle Medical, andI have been unable to even consider returning there. There are people I want very much to see, but I don't know if they would be there and with my fragile energy, I can't schlep all the way to the Central District and back for "maybe".

Seeing Fatima was good. She was able to say how sorry she was. I was able to tell her how much she helped us. She was able to say nice things about Stu, and his wonderful smile. She was so happy when I told her we were getting married. And I got several strong solid hugs from this tiny strong woman. Again, I'm imagining that is an act of uncommon grace from her. I'm guessing that hugging strangers, or at least non-family members, is not an everyday thing in her world, as it is far more in mine.

I hope I run into her again.