The story pulls at the heartstrings and reminds you that in such a world of darkness, there is some light.

Nancy Lichtig Frederick was Michelle Harf-Grim’s best friend for 36 years. According to Michelle, “Everyone was like family to Nancy. When someone would first meet her, she always made them feel like they were her best friend. She had a way of including you so you would never feel alone. She took care of those around her.”

But in July of 1995, Nancy was diagnosed with late stage-3 ovarian cancer. Now, it was Nancy who needed someone to take care of her.

Nancy, according to Michelle, never stopped battling the disease, and her courage was inspirational. She called herself a “stubborn Hungarian,” and her thirst for life was unquenchable. She often gave speeches about her situation (and the symptoms and risks of ovarian cancer) for the American Cancer Society, and helped raise money for Relay for Life fund-raisers. In addition, she co-founded the Cancer Support Foundation, which helps people battling the disease.

In September of 2007, Nancy’s doctors told her that the cancer had spread to her esophagus and they were out of options for her. They gave her a prognosis of six months to a year, but with the strength of her spirit and will to live, she exceeded that projection.

In the last 18 months of her life, Nancy sought spiritual solace, although she did not belong to a synagogue or temple. According to Michelle, the only response Nancy, a Baltimore native, received from the local Jewish community in her inquiries was from Cantor Nancy R. Ginsberg, formerly of Har Sinai Congregation. The cantor visited Nancy in her home every other week for months, and also at Gilchrist Hospice, Michelle said.

Nancy lost her fight on April 19, at age 41, leaving behind many grieving family members and friends. One of them was her husband of eight-and-a-half years, Trevor Frederick, who last January was diagnosed with stomach cancer that was found to have spread to his liver.

As things happen, one morning last month, on the day of Nancy’s funeral, Michelle’s husband, Michael Grim, stopped by a convenience store that he frequents, for a cup of coffee. While there, he chatted with the owner of the store about the Fredericks’ tragic situation, including the fact that there weren’t quite enough funds available yet to pay for Nancy’s funeral (because of Trevor’s expensive treatments). The proprietor, a Jewish man, immediately made a sizable contribution, even though he barely even knew Nancy.

When I called the store owner this week about possibly writing an article on his incredible act of generosity, he immediately turned me down. “I did this out of my heart, out of instinct,” he said. “I’m not looking for attention or compliments. It’s just something I did, that’s all.”

Of course, I’m not going to tell you this man’s name. But in my opinion, he is a living embodiment of Maimonides’ precept that the highest form of tzedakah is giving anonymously.

And it goes without saying that the world would be a far better place if there were more people like this gentleman … and Nancy Lichtig Frederick.