Last weekend, after two days photographing a horse sport event at the Princess Louise Park Show Centre in Sussex, I stepped out for a meeting at Picadilly Coffee Roasters. When I came back from the washroom, I realized my ring was gone.
It wasn’t just any ring. Its stone was made from my son’s cremation ashes, my last link to him, a way of keeping him close.
I rushed back to the washroom, thinking I might have pulled it off while drying my hands. The trash was full of paper towels, so I took the bag home, and Joel and I put on disposable gloves and went through every one. No ring.
I was devastated. Before giving up, I posted on Facebook about what had happened, just in case someone stumbled across it.
A little while later, a message arrived from Stephen, a friend from my photo club, with a photo of my ring in his palm: “Is this your ring?”
“Yes it is! Where did you find it?”
He had come to the shop for a coffee after I left, seen my post, and decided to check the washroom himself. He found the ring upside down in the corner of the sink. Twenty minutes later, he was at my door.
I have never been so grateful. The ring has little monetary value, but its emotional value is beyond measure. What are the odds? Perhaps I should buy a lottery ticket.
This isn’t the first time Facebook has come through for me. Three years ago, when my son went missing from North Vancouver, I pleaded online for help searching for him. Friends, friends of friends, and distant acquaintances all pitched in. Sadly, he had died on the first day, though we didn’t learn that until 12 days later. Through that terrible stretch, friends, relatives, and people I barely knew sustained me with their comments and posts.
Many people see social media as a waste of time. Others call it a harmless diversion, or a source of harm and misinformation. I think they can all be right, depending on the situation. But when you need many people willing to help, it can be remarkable.
Thank you, Stephen, for going out of your way.
