I found this old blurry picture while playing with my husband’s phone this morning and I really felt like sharing the story behind it.
It was early 2013, just 2-3 months after we had lost our baby girl Danielle. The numbness, shock and paranoia had abated to a point that we felt able to do something somewhat normal with our 4yr old daughter – like taking a holiday. On the advice of some friends we decided to take a short trip up the coast to a place called “The Entrance”. Our friends told us that besides being a stunning seaside location it had quite a few attractions for young kids. My husband jumped online and booked us a waterfront room at a serviced apartment called the “Waldorf”. Besides the view, the room came with a complimentary breakfast at the coffee shop in the mezzanine. We were really looking forward to this much needed break.
“The Entrance” was as stunning as we had heard. As we made our way up to our room I fantasised about playing my guitar in the balcony while letting my mind get lost in the rolling blue of the ocean and hopefully finding some answers to my many questions in the whisper of the breeze. My heart sank as we entered our room. It was indeed an ocean facing room but the management had forgotten to mention the three sturdy pine trees firmly wedged between us and the looming blue beyond.
We were upset. There were no other rooms available and so we had to simply remain in the one we had. This felt like yet another injustice added to the other injustices we had recently weathered. As if this wasn’t enough, the next morning we discovered that the “coffee shop” was just a tiny room with a half strung guitar hanging on one wall, lots of children’s drawings on the other and a whole bunch of family photos nestled amidst the crockery on the wooden shelf. The complimentary breakfast “buffet” turned out to be just cereal, toast and coffee. Everything else worth eating needed to ordered off the menu – so much for the fat room fee we had paid. As we waited for our à la carte sausages and eggs to arrive we grumbled on and discussed possibly moving to another hotel in the area. Suddenly, the gentleman in this picture walked in.
“Hello there!”, he enthusiastically greeted our 4yr old daughter. “I’m Allan”, he said. As we exchanged pleasantries we learned that he ran this little coffee shop (on behalf of the Waldorf) with his wife Kay who was the chef. Despite it’s modesty and outdated vibe the coffee shop was very busy and Allan seemed to know everyone by name. He kept coming over to our table as we ate our breakfast. He joked with our 4yr old, gave her a colouring book and as the coffee shop quieted down, he took the half strung guitar off the wall and sang a silly song for our little girl. He told us she reminded him of his own grandkids and that one of his children has the same name as our girl. He broke into yet another song and I could’ve sworn we were listening to Elvis Presley – right from his rich voice to his chords specially adapted to his intentionally half-strung-differently-tu
My husband and I left that little coffee shop knowing that we weren’t there for the view of the ocean or for relaxing holiday breakfasts. We were there because we needed to meet Allan and Kay. We remained at the Waldorf and spent the next few mornings with them. On our last morning before we left for home, Allan sang us a song that he had specially composed in memory of our little girl Danielle. He had never met our baby but he honoured her memory and showed us compassion and empathy that even some of our near and dear ones weren’t capable of.
We went back to The Entrance several times after this and deliberately stayed at the Waldorf just so we could have early morning breakfast and time with Allan and Kay. That little coffee shop was their way of snubbing old age and living life to the fullest. What they didn’t know was that they were blessing and inspiring countless others along the way. Our lives were always that tiny bit richer every time we visited Allan and Kay. On one particular occasion we were humbled to witness our prayers for their son answered. Halfway through our breakfast, Allan walked in with their boy who had agreed to leave the house for the first time in 20 years! Needless to say, all of us involved rejoiced that we were able to celebrate this monumental miracle together.
Our last visit to The Entrance was after a long spell of almost a year – this time to show our miracle baby boy to Allan and Kay. Tears streamed down Kay’s face as she cuddled our little boy – as she celebrated our blessing she also shared with us that Allan had passed away just 3 months before. This old couple were never savvy with cell phones and so they had no way of letting us know that he had been diagnosed with very late stage brain cancer while we were away trying to have a baby. There were tears of sadness yet there were tears of joy because we were blessed to have had our lives touched by an angel like Allan. Kay has remained strong. It turns out that one way to kick life in the teeth is to tirelessly run a little coffee shop. We really do love her.
I wanted to share this story because sometimes we despise certain circumstances and situations in our lives when they don’t meet our expectations. But really, some of the best things in life were designed to meet our needs NOT our expectations. Our little trip was never meant to be about the ocean, the view or the dining. It was always meant to be about an old couple who filled us with strength, encouragement and hope for the future when we needed it the most.
Having the carpet pulled from beneath my feet toppled me into a place of introspection and a keen eye for the silver lining. There is always something to learn and something good to be discovered if you take the time to stop and look a situation in the eye. Most importantly, there is a Man up there who is really good at his job. I put in a concerted effort, as best I can, to step aside and allow Him to do what He does best. In all honesty, it isn’t a bad way to live!
– Melissa Domingo
25 March, 2017