We had a man come in today wearing a handmade leather jacket and matching western style hat. Both had amazing American Indian style beading (also done by hand) and the jacket had the obligatory long fringe. When he turned I saw the words Cherokee and Choctaw beaded on the back. Being part Choctaw myself, I asked about it. I only expected a story about how he was really into his heritage, maybe even how he spent time around actual tribes.
What I did not expect was a story that inspired a blog post.
He started out saying he does have both tribes in his blood. Not uncommon in this area as the Trail of Tears passed close by here and the Choctaw would help some escape and welcome them into their villages. He then suddenly switched tracks and told me his son had passed away in recent years. He got really choked up as he told me he never blamed God, that even in his grief he knew his God had a purpose. That his son was meant to be an arrow in the war of the apocalypse. His son's name, which I never did catch because of the emotion in his voice, had even meant god's arrow. He started crying at this point and I couldn't help but tear up as well. He walked towards the door wondering aloud why he had even brought that pain up...
I rang up another customer and when I finished the man was standing there again. He had remembered what he had started to tell me.
After his son's death he spent a lot of time asking God why. He asked what he needed to do to get his affairs in order, to make things right for this life and the next. That was when he realized he had never in his life honored his Native heritage. So now he focus on doing just that.
We were hit with our after school rush then so we had to cut the conversation short. But that his grief, so obvious and raw, had led him to a live-path he would have never known and that has made him feel so complete.... obviously that could never fill the gap his loss left, but it was, moving...
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