gray

when a colleague dies, business as usual disappears and everyone walks around with their heart at half mast. there’s a fog and a confusion that is exchanged in wordless glances . there are puffy eyes, heavy sighs, and lots of tight- lipped sympathetic smiles.

when that colleague dies of cancer, it’s worse. it’s more unbelievable, more sad, more wrong. there are too many levels of tragedy and irony.

i’m glad it was gray and cool out. bright sun would have felt like an intrusion or like the skies were celebrating, and that would have felt wrong.

if i wasn’t already, i am officially the town cryer. ‘i wish i could cry freely’, one of my physicians said. ‘it’s a gift’, i told him drawing a tissue from the holster on my hip.