Do you believe in coincidences? Some folks may believe that coincidences are the act of a higher power, while others may shrug off any sort of instance of significance.

Recently, I experienced a little bit of a coincidence. When I was a little girl, I recall visiting the home of a beekeeper in Grandview. I’m not sure if it was a field trip through school, or something we did as Daisy Scouts, but I remember walking with the group over to this older man’s house, where he invited us into his backyard. There he had what I remember being sort of a bee hotel, and he explained to us how the bees made their honey, what the job of each one was, and why they are important to our ecosystem.

He showed us, with big gloves, how he handles the bees. And he taught us to not be afraid of them. I remember being so mesmerized by this, because I certainly was one terrified little girl when it came to being stung. But, he was so gentle and calm and those bees seemed to know that he meant them no harm.

I have never forgotten this, though it’s probably been 30 years ago now. Just last week, as I received a press release about our bees being in danger, I was reminded of my trip to the man’s house as a little girl. Since then, I have driven by where I thought the house to be, and peeked through to the yard to see if I could see any sign of the bees or my old friend. I wasn’t ever really sure that he was still there or whether or not I had dreamed the whole thing.

On a whim, I responded to the emailed press release. I asked the Missouri State Beekeepers Association if there were any beekeepers in my area, and if so, if they’d be interested in talking with me for a story. This was on Wednesday, May 1. I didn’t hear back from them, which is fairly common in my line of work. I knew it was a long-shot anyway, and apart from knocking on the door of the home, I figured this was my best chance at finding him.

Over the weekend, like most weekends, I received a couple of obituaries in my inbox to run in this week’s issue. As I was scanning through one, I paused. Bill Bandy was a beekeeper in Grandview. I did some quick research and discovered that the man I had been hoping to find, the beekeeper I remember meeting nearly three decades ago, had passed away at 97 years old.

Mr. Bandy died on the same day that I inquired about him to the state beekeepers association. I wish I had reached out to him sooner. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that pretty much anyone that you take the time to sit down with has a story to tell. I wish I could have told Mr. Bandy’s story.

Despite my regrets, I know he lived a long life. I hope he knew that he made an impact on at least one little girl who will forever think of him when she hears a little buzz in her ear. He taught me that bees are our friends, and that with a little patience and a gentle hand, life’s stings won’t hurt so bad.