Why Everyone Loves Brad?
I was reminded of this recently during one of those long evenings when eight friends were sitting around, talking, laughing, and eventually asking the kinds of questions that only seem to appear after the conversation has gone on for a while. Someone asked: “Why is Brad so loved?” It was a surprisingly difficult question to answer. Brad isn't the loudest person in the group. Not sociable either. He doesn't have the most impressive stories. And he certainly isn't the person throwing the biggest parties or making the most noise when everyone gets together. Yet, somehow, people were drawn to him. So I openly asked Brad: “What's your secret?” His answer surprised all of us. He said that, from an early age, he had developed a simple habit. Whenever someone he knew was going through a difficult time, a death in the family, an illness, a breakup, a job loss, anything that left someone hurting, he tried his best to reach out. He called, visited, sent notes, sometimes it was just an email. He didn't always make it to the birthday parties or wedding. He might even not be there for every celebration. When someone was in pain, he tried never to miss the moment, he said, “if your intent is genuine, people never forget someone who shared their pain.” That stopped me. Maybe we have been looking at relationships from the wrong end. We often think the people who love us most are the people who laugh with us, celebrate with us, invite us to places and events, remember our birthdays, or just enjoy spending time with us. Of course, these things matter. However, there is another kind of connection, A quieter one. When life stops being easy, someone lost a loved one, when career suddenly disappears, a quite connection appears. It may also appear when someone is sitting alone at night wondering what happened to the life they thought they were going to have. At those moments, something changes. You don't necessarily need someone to entertain you, or give you clever advice. You don’t even need someone to fix anything. All you need in these moments, is to know, ‘Someone cared enough to come a little closer when the rest of the world seemed to be moving away.’ I guess that is why a hug can sometimes say more than a hundred words. It doesn't solve the problem, it simply says: “You don't have to carry this moment completely alone.” And that could be, one of the deepest privileges of being human. We can carry a little of another person's sorrow without making it ours, because the most useful thing is to stay close without a solution, and to keep their situation in mind long after they’ve stopped mentioning it. That is different from being liked. Being liked can make you welcome at the party. Being needed can make your presence matter when there is no party. Perhaps the most beautiful relationships are built somewhere between the two. People may forget who laughed at their joke. Yet they often remember, for years, who showed up when they were hurting. Brad didn't set out to become the most loved person in the room. He simply developed a habit of paying attention to pain. And somewhere along the way, he discovered something about people: We may appreciate the people who share our happiness. But we deeply remember the people who don't leave us alone with our sadness. Perhaps this is one of the quietest forms of love. So, tell me: Who are some of these beautiful people in your life? Until tomorrow, Bob.
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