It really is the little things

My day on Thursday, May 22 didn’t start out the way I expected. It was so much better.

And I have someone to thank for that.

Only I don’t have a clue who.

Because there, on my desk at work, was an autographed picture of Dany Heatley – as in Ottawa Senators Dany Heatley.

On it was a note that read: “For your son.”

Was this from someone who had read my column last week and felt sympathetic to the fact my son and I had stood for an hour and a half outside the Metro Centre waiting for the chance to get an autograph from Heatley? Or was it from someone who just knew that Heatley is my son’s NHL hockey idol?

While I can’t answer those questions, I can provide this answer. Whoever left that photograph was awfully nice.

A small gesture. But a big impact.

On my drive home I couldn’t help but think about how small gestures go a long way. Kind of like the email I got from a woman in Windsor about my Heatley column. “I don’t know squat about Dany Heatley,” she wrote, “but I do know one thing, you’re a great mom.”

It’s always a great feeling when someone relates to you. And an even better one when they take the time to say so. I get that a lot with my weekly column. When I wrote about my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s and how she’s forgotten who I am – but more heartbreaking, that she’s forgotten who my children are – I received tremendous response from friends, readers and strangers. People told me they cried when they read the column. I told them I cried when I wrote it.

People appreciated it when I put into perspective how having your computer crash – in the grand scheme of life – is not the worse thing that can ever happen to you.

And when my oldest son and I venture out in public, many people tap me on the shoulder to ask, “Is that THE jacket?” Often they have a jacket at home so they know about the rules.

Now I think there ought to be a new rule. No one can anonymously do something nice for someone else. Because if we don’t know who they are, how can we say thank you?

I went to someone last week who I thought might have had something to do with the Heatley photograph, or at least know who was behind it. They told me they didn’t know about it. I didn’t totally believe them.

“I just want to thank them,” I said – that being my small gesture – to which the person said, “I think whoever did this would know how appreciative you would be.”

I certainly hope so.