Stan's Visit

 It was raining that day and I decided to take a break from my errands an get myself some much needed lunch.  Later, as I was standing in line in the fast food restaurant, a small, scruffy gentleman in front of me with unkempt hair wearing a dirty green Army trench coat, plaid brown paints and a pair of old work boots had just ordered his lunch and apparently was a bit short on the cost.  "You can just add it to my order", I said to the clearly agitated cashier.  The man snatched his bag off the counter, barely looked my way as he hurried off and said "'pre shate dat, man".  "No problem", I replied, and proceeded with my own order.  The meal was good and as I sat and ate I utilized my time to reflect on some things that were worthwhile and wholesome.  As I stepped outside to go to my car I noticed the same fellow from inside the restaurant line standing on the corner. It was still raining, and more heavier than earlier. I pulled up beside him and asked him if he needed a ride someplace.  He stated that he was desiring to go to see his son about a couple of miles down the road.  I told him to hop in and I would be glad to give him a lift. "I ain't got no gas money" he blurted out. (Apparently he had forgotten that I was the man who paid the balance on his lunch).  "That's not a problem. I have enough gas", I said.  Without further hesitation he climbed in my car.  I introduced myself to him and he told me his name was Stan and that he had lived here all his life.  He did not seem to want to talk about too much else and I did not push him.  He just stayed wrapped up in his Army green trench coat and looked out the passenger window.  "Just tell me when we get to your son's house", I said.  We listened to music in silence along the way. 
 I'm not the best judge of distance, but I was certain we had driven further than a couple of miles. In fact, it was more like 5 miles.  I was just about to ask Stan if he was perhaps lost when he suddenly said "You can let me off right here".  I quickly, but safely, pulled my car off to the side of the road.  Although I was not familiar with the area I could easily see that it was basically an abandoned district. We had stopped in front of an old rotted out structure that seemed to have been a corner store at one time.  Similar deserted structures were to the left and right of it.  "Stan", I said softly, "Your son lives here?"  Stan had opened the passenger door and was standing out in the pouring rain.  He leaned over and said "I didn't tell you my son lived here. I told you I wanted to go see my son."  And with that he shut the car door.  I was perplexed, but curious as to what exactly was going on at this moment in my life so I kept my car in park and watched Stan.  I watched him as he walked around the back of my car and continued across the road to another torn down structure.  I could now see that at one time it was a church.  Stan walked to the left of the structure to a sparsely wooded area where at least a dozen headstones protruded from the ground in various shapes and sizes.  He walked until he stopped in front of one particular headstone.  Instantly I understood what my mysterious new companion would not, (or could not), convey in words and tears streamed down my face as if I had lost one of my own loved ones all over again.  I opened my car door and went to the trunk of my car and retrieved my umbrella.  I opened it and walked over to where Stan stood. "Here Stan. Take this", I said quietly.  "I'll be waiting in the car to take you home when you're ready."  Stan took the umbrella and halfway looked at me and said, "Pre shate dat, man".
I love you all,
Dennis