Keenan was a tall, handsome African-American from Beaumont, Texas, who happened to be at the Microtel Inn in Saraland, Ala., while we were there on a tragic mission.

Our daughter, Cherie Tardy of Mobile, had taken her own life, and Miss Peggy was shattered by the loss. We were there for final arrangements, along with Cherie’s siblings and other close relatives.

Miss Peggy was waiting at the elevator, going downstairs to the room of another daughter, Kim, when grief overwhelmed her. She leaned against the wall and broke down.

A clean-cut, well-groomed black man, who appeared to be in his 30s, was on his way to the ice-vending machine.

Seeing Miss Peggy, he turned aside.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No, I'm not,” she answered. And she explained the cause of her grief.

Keenan walked over and asked whether he could do anything for her.

“No,” she said, “but thank you for asking.”

The elevator doors opened at this point, but Keenan was reluctant to leave her .

“Will it be all right with you if I ride down the elevator with you?” he asked.

She nodded.

When  they reached the first floor, he asked where she was going.

“I’m going to my daughter’s room.”

“Do you mind if I walk down with you?

“No, I wouldn’t mind,” she said.

He walked half the distance to Kim’s room, then asked, “Could you use a hug?”

“Yes.”

He hugged her, said he was sorry for her loss, and went his way.

I learned later that Keenan was in the Mobile area for a business meeting of his company, Office Supply.

Miss Peggy left at the desk a note expressing her gratitude for his kindness. When she pointed him out to me, I expressed my personal gratitude. He was occupied with his business meeting, and my impaired hearing prevented me from hearing his last name. But there was kindness in his manner.

He was there for the duration of our visit, and he often passed us in the lobby or in the breakfast area.  Each time, he would walk over with an “Are you OK?” and a hug.

Those gestures of genuine concern from a total stranger were an enormous comfort to my wife. It gave me a warm feeling to be standing in my old stomping grounds in the extreme south of Alabama and reflect on the changes that have come to our region over the course of my lifetime. Changes that allowed a kind-hearted black man to reach out and touch an older white woman without risking offense and without triggering an angry response. Changes that allow people of all races to share a common humanity.

We are still sorting through the sources of despair that drove Cherie to her final act. She had spoken by telephone to her mother on the eve of her death and seemed excited over a pool party she was going to with her husband, Joe, to be followed by a weekend at the beach on nearby Dauphin Island. What drove her to leave the party and end her life is a question we are all contending with.

Cherie had a sweet personality that endeared her to everyone she met. She had a compassion for those who were undergoing personal ordeals.

One of the friends who felt her compassion was Kathy McElheron of New York City, whom Cherie met via the Internet at the time of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. I don’t think they ever met in person, but Cherie’s concern for the people of New York resulted in a lasting friendship. Cherie sent her a package of grits with instructions on how to fix them. I don’t think Kathy was wild about the grits, but her friendship with Cherie deepened.

“Cherie was one of the kindest, most caring people I have ever known,” Kathy told me in a Facebook posting after she learned of Cherie’s death. “She was the first person I called when my first grandchild was born. She was as happy for me as if it was her own. I have shared so many happy memories with her. She will be in my heart forever.”

There were other gestures of kindness that will remain in our memory.

Cherie had been employed as supervisor of housekeeping at the Microtel Inn, off Interstate 65, a dozen miles north of Mobile. The management had made available several rooms without charge for Cherie’s parents and siblings, and additional rooms at reduced rates for other relatives. They welcomed us as family, and allowed us to see the room that served as Cherie’s command center.

On a wall was a message board containing Cherie’s last instructions to her staff.

We began writing on it our own tributes to Cherie. Staff members added their comments. When we left, management allowed us to take it home as a memento of our daughter.

But the most enduring mementos will be the kindness that emanated from readers of this column, from friends around the country, from those who knew and loved Cherie — and from the young stranger who encountered a distraught lady by the elevator of the Microtel Inn and stopped to share a hug and words of comfort.

Write Gene Owens at 315 Lakeforest Circle, Anderson SC 29625, or email him at WadesDixieco@AOL.com