My Friend the Grouch

I've worked at the Catholic gift and book store for over 8 years now. In that time, I've gotten to know some of the customers fairly well. Some of them have even become friends. I am thinking of one in particular, whom I will call "Oscar".

I met Oscar for the first time several years ago. He is an older man with iron gray hair and pale complexion. He came in on a Saturday afternoon and the first thing that caught his eye was a statue of the Blessed Mother wielding a broom. Some of you might remember the story. He exploded, calling the statue "obscene". To tell you the truth, he scared me a little. It's intimidating to be yelled at.

From that time on, every time he came in, he'd gravitate to the statue. We eventually had a conversation about the statue representing holiness in our everyday lives and he understood. From that time on, he'd look for the statue and told me that he'd like to buy it. Quite a turn around.

I didn't know his name, so I started calling him "my grouch", because no matter what, he was always a little brusque and blunt. However a bond was forming between us. We were becoming friends. He told me about his wife, who had a stroke and was not doing at all well. He had to put her in a nursing home and it broke his heart. She had had "quite a fine mind" he told me and now that was all gone. He had cared for her at home as long as he could and finally came to the realization that she needed more help than he could provide. Within months, his wife had died and he was really alone.

We noticed at work that he looked thinner and even more pale than usual. His lips were becoming darker. We remarked on it to each other and just assumed that he missed his wife. However two weeks in a row, Oscar came into the store at his usual time huffing and puffing from the walk from his car. I thought he needed to be on oxygen.

Two weeks ago, Oscar came in worse than ever before. The short walk from the parking lot had tired him out completely. He looked awful. His lips were purple. He was really grouchy too. I asked is he was ok and he brushed my question away. I asked if I could call his son for him because I was really worried. He barked out his "NO!" He usually buys a copy of our diocesan newspaper and it hadn't been delivered yet, so he made a gesture of disgust and walked out. I kept an eye on him while trying to help the other customers. Within minutes he was back in the store and was thoroughly agitated. His car wouldn't start. He began pacing back and forth, panting and muttering, "I don't know what to do!" over and over again. I renewed my offer to call his son and was again brushed aside. He continued his tirade and I was getting very worried. I went to the back room and brought up a chair and made him sit down and then I picked up the phone. I called the one person I knew would help - my husband. Within minutes, Jim and Becky had arrived on the scene. Jim jump-started Oscar's car and then followed him across town to his mechanic so that Oscar could buy new battery. Oscar had been so upset, I was really worried about his health. Jim said that he was doing better by the time his car was fixed. Oscar showed his gratitude by buying Becky a miniature license plate with her name on it and by paying for a repair on our van that he had noticed needed doing.

Last week I was gone on his usual day and my boss told me that Oscar was really looking bad. I was at work today and Oscar came in at his usual time. He thanked me again for helping him and asked after Jim and Becky. I thanked him for paying for our repair. He waved it off. He then said that he'd like me to pray for him. He is having heart surgery this week. His doctors recommended it 6 years ago, but he didn't want to do it. He knows now that it is needed.

Please pray for Oscar. That isn't his real name (and yes, I do know it!), but God will know who you mean. In spite of his direct attitude, he really is a sweetie.