August 5, 2021

Written 08/08/21 | Finalized 04/10/22

Have you ever been so caught off guard by something that you find it hard to focus? Have you ever been taken by surprise so unexpectedly that it left you thinking of little else? I have. It happened on an ordinary Thursday in August. I could use all the clichés in the book to describe this experience. A moment that I’ll always remember. A memory that will stay with me for as long as I live. An episode with more meaning than words can describe. You get the gist. But that Thursday evening of August 5, 2021 is all of those clichés and infinitely more. It’s a remarkable event in my life which had a quietly profound impact on me. And it all happened within thirty seconds.

I work at a garden center. It’s a family-owned business that opened in Richboro in the late ‘80’s. Despite being tucked away in a residential neighborhood, the company is a surprisingly large operation. When you first arrive, you’re welcomed by an impressive assortment of annuals, perennials, trees, and shrubs that cover half of the property. Inside the main store are rows of shelves busting at the seams with soils, plant food, fertilizer, gardening tools, wind chimes, bags of bird seed, feeders, trinkets and accessories to complete your garden, and every kind of pot you could imagine. A songbird’s call plays on loop throughout the day which adds to the homey atmosphere. Henry monitors customers as they pass by his fish bowl and Mama Cat spends the better part of the day curled up on her cushion of choice in patio furniture.

At the end of the store, near the center of the tropical forest, is an automatic door that opens into the outdoor nursery. Next to the rows of colorful annuals is the fountain area. Behind the orchestra of those trickling water displays lies the pond shop whose entire front is a retractable glass door. Just below are aisles of large pottery of all shapes and sizes. They partially conceal a small pool with a waterfall that cascades down the length of the nursery. The water flows beneath two small bridges before emptying into the pond park. There, from the railing of the gazebo, you can watch as the resident fish race towards you for food, including the largest koi I’ve ever seen.

The pond park gazebo provides guests with a panoramic view of the nursery. Out among the collection of fragrant annuals and perennials is a team of blue shirts who bustle about like the bees that hum above the blooms. The garden center crewmembers are some of the most down-to-earth people I’ve worked with. They share my love of all things that grow. And they don’t mind getting their hands dirty. It’s not unusual to catch us excitedly absorbed in one another’s gardening projects. It’s also not unusual for us on the retail side of things to linger nearby while a nursery associate offers advice to a customer. The collective knowledge that grows at the garden center is truly astounding. Not only do the employees have an easygoing and welcoming demeanor but they’re happy to share what they know and then some.

Like Matt.

Matt is ten years my senior. He’s friendly, confident, reliable, and knows pretty much everything there is to know at the garden center. He’s a treasure trove of information and never hesitates to take the time to answer questions, explain the endless ‘whys’ in garden care, or demonstrate a more efficient way to complete a task. Matt’s been with the company nearly twenty years and although I’ve only been employed for five months, he’s easily become my favorite person to work with. It didn’t take long before working with him felt more like working alongside a big brother or an older cousin.

Any day he was on duty was a day guaranteed to be filled with laughter. Whether I was heading up the red brick walkway to clock in for the day or crossing paths with him randomly during my shift, Matt always greeted me with a smile and friendly exclamation, “Megan!” From his boyish humor to stories of what his two little kids did the day before or his famously passionate rants about fishing, it was never a dull moment when he was around. But Matt could also pull the serious and commanding card when necessary, like when customers waltzed through the doors to start shopping three minutes before closing, or when a team needed to be assembled to relocate a load of heavy merchandise. No matter what frustrations Matt was dealing with, it never affected the carefree way he interacted with us. He could be having a good day or one where he was pulled in multiple directions at once; if you had a question or needed help, Matt was there and gave you his full attention.

Matt made working at the garden center more like working in a big family. And that helped the days fly by.

Days turned into weeks and soon enough months had come and gone. July 28th rolled around, just like any other Wednesday. I’d been busy in the storage building for several hours endeavoring to prepare room for the massive shipment of Christmas merchandise that was inbound, and I was hungry for lunch. My coworker was in a mischievous mood which wasn’t completely out of character but still struck me as suspicious. He obviously had a secret that he couldn’t keep. “Either tell me or stop it,” I told him in a playful tone.

“Someone’s leaving the company,” he said finally. “Another one?” I answered in surprise. We’d already had a number of people quit over the summer and now we were losing another? Geez. He wouldn’t give up the name of the person leaving and to be honest, I really didn’t care. I’d find out sooner or later. It better not be Matt I thought to myself as I headed back into the store. But there was no way it could be Matt. That would be ridiculous. It’d be like Kirk leaving the Enterprise. There was no way. So I dismissed the idea faster than it had popped into my head and went to lunch.

About an hour later I was fussing with some papers at my counter half listening to the chatter of the cashiers. It was yet another sweltering day and I was stalling in the air conditioning as long as I could before going back over to the storage building. I noticed the shadow of an approaching figure in the door frame and looked up to see Matt making his customary pass by the registers. Even before he opened his mouth I knew. My heart sank. “So, I don’t know if you guys heard,” he began with all of us gathered around. “But I’m leaving.”

I was dumbfounded. I joined my fellow cashiers in congratulating our favorite manager on his new prospect. He’d been offered a job that would allow him to spend more time with his family. He’d have weekends off and evenings free which isn’t typical of garden center careers. After almost twenty years of sixty to seventy-hour work weeks, who wouldn’t take advantage of this new opportunity? Although the news stung, I forced myself to immediately compartmentalize what I’d just been told. I’d process it all later on the ride home. For now, there was nothing I could do but be mature and polite and carry on as normal. After all, there was no point in raging against a decision that had already been made.

I was happy for Matt, truly. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t crushed. Most of us were. I’m still surprised at how hard the news hit me. It felt selfish to be affected like that. I’d only been with the company for five months. I was the rookie. Imagine how everyone else was feeling. Matt had been doing the work of at least three people and was an invaluable asset to the business for nearly two decades. His departure would certainly be a great loss to the company because of his experience and vast knowledge in gardening, pond maintenance, pottery, hardscape, and retail operations. But for me, his value as an employee was only part of what made his leaving so tough. I liked having him around.

We all had one week to prepare our goodbyes. I organized a family-size gift from all of the garden center crew in the days that followed and used that time to mentally prepare to say farewell to someone who’d quickly become one of my favorite people. One week wasn’t a lot of time but it was enough to get ready. I could feel all of my senses suddenly become heightened to ensure every moment was fully savored. I started to soak up the days more earnestly because there weren’t many left. I took more mental pictures to store in my personal photo album of life because cameras can’t capture everything. I did all of these things the week leading up to August 5th and I made it a point to enjoy the last few nights of fast store closings which were one of Matt’s managerial trademarks.

All too soon it was Thursday and Matt’s last day. It was clear and sunny and uncommonly cool for August. The sky was bright and blue with white cotton candy-like clouds, and a pleasant breeze swept across the seven-acre property. Operations were running normally but I could definitely feel the melancholy that most of us were endeavoring to mask with a positive attitude. It was sad knowing this was it but on the bright side, we did have one more work day with our favorite manager. Closing would certainly be difficult that evening but I’d known this goodbye was coming and being able to prepare helped considerably.

Morning melted into the farewell pizza party at noon. Before long it was 4pm and the early shift began packing up for the day. The hours slipped away unsympathetically and customers gradually dwindled as the sun fell into its sunset. And then, as if time was in a hurry, 7pm hit and the doors were locked. I and another cashier finished cleaning up and shut down our registers. The goodbye that was only minutes away loomed over me, dreadful and inescapable. This was it. But not to worry, I told myself. I’ll be able to get through it. After all, I’d had plenty of time to prepare. I’ll be fine.

Wrong.

The other cashier headed out after a good-luck hug and “You’ll do great” to Matt. Last one left, I went up to say my goodbye not knowing the next seconds would become a moment that I’d never forget. I was ready for a handshake but instead was swallowed up in a great big bear hug from the 6’4” person who’d become more like an older brother than anything else. And then he said: “You’re like a little sister.” And that broke me.

Know how in TV and movies when a character freezes while everything else in the background wizzes by in a blur? That’s what it felt like. That bear hug and those words made my heart ache and that’s not something I say often if ever. I also consider myself a very composed individual but at that moment I had to bite my tongue hard and control my breathing to keep it together. Those words were heartfelt and genuine and the best parting gift I could’ve ever asked for. As the oldest of four I’ve never been called a “little sister.” I don’t hate being the oldest but I have wondered what it would be like to have an older sibling, especially an older brother. And as I rapidly approach thirty I know the likelihood of that kind of dynamic has pretty much passed.

Needless to say, the exchange was a complete and wonderful surprise. I heard myself say one last “Thank You” and “Good Luck” and felt my legs carry me away to clock out. But my head was still back at my brown-speckled cash stand, anchored in that warm and unexpected moment. I didn’t want to leave but knew I had to. I wanted to tell him that he’d been like a big brother but I couldn’t get the words out. I was caught off guard by a precious moment and took too long to get it together.

I can’t think of a time in my life when saying goodbye was so hard. I also can’t think of a single instance where I’ve missed a person so much that it physically hurts. I cried when my dog passed away but I never cried when I’ve parted ways with someone. There are of course people that I’ve missed throughout the years, but never to a degree where the pain from goodbye lasted for days or made me struggle to hold back tears. This instance was different. I was able to make it to my car that evening dry-eyed, but once I was buckled up in the driver’s seat the dam burst. Warm tears wet my face and the sensation tickled my nose. I laid in bed that night replaying that precious moment over and over again until I fell asleep. I still cannot believe how much it hurts. For goodness sake, it’s not like he’s gone for good! He’s just off on another adventure that’s better for his family.

I only knew Matt for five months so why was the first day back to work after he left so unbelievably difficult? Like tearing up while I ate my lunch hard (I was alone, thankfully). He definitely snuck up on me, that’s for sure. He was a fun and lively person to work alongside and apparently left a deeper impression on a rookie than she realized.

It’s been a few days now since August 5th. The emotion is still raw and the pain is still present. And I’m sure I’m not the only one coping with the sour aftertaste of that last goodbye. But there is one thing that’s helped me move forward, something Matt said to a small group of us as we unpacked a pallet of new birdhouses. It was a simple storybook quote he’d adopted for times like this: “Don’t cry because it’s ending. Smile because it happened.” While I’m not certain I won’t choke up every now and then or miss having him around at the garden center, I’ll forever smile inside knowing I’d finally found out what it was like to have a big brother.