Death on an autumn day

Like a dog that goes by itself to die, that is what my grieving process was compared to, by my best friend; that I go away and cry silently, and then talk about it. I never thought of myself like that.
Right now though, there’s something comforting to me about writing, about seeing letters and words together. I am happy to see them. It’s been awhile.
Oct. 29 was a strange autumn day. It was fresh unlike the scorching week that had passed in front of it. The sun was shining, but it served only to highlight the bright leaves immobile on the ground.
An unexpected phone call changed my day. Suddenly, I held the knowledge that someone I loved was no longer living. People were all of a sudden so fragile to me. I looked at each face on the bus attentively. The songs on the radio were too happy for me, so I drove to the soundtrack of my own crying.
I cried for a person I had known that now lay cold. I cried for his daughter who had to find him dead in the morning expecting to see him smile. I cried for the life his children could have had and now all had changed overnight. I cried for the wife who had survived him. I cried for the loss my family was feeling. When you have lost you know what all it entails.
I walked through stores like a zombie, trying to just seem normal and smile. I spent about 20 minutes staring at tomatoes. It took me 5 minutes to explain to a lady who was trying to give me pepperoni pizza rolls that I was a vegetarian.
I sat in my car and ate my small sandwich, the car off, my body absorbing the sunshine, my face stiff from tears. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, yet at the same time I wanted to speak to the world.
Death and life; while I was sitting in class checking the time on my cell phone every minute, my cousin had been probably sitting in a room with my uncle a cell phone in her hand and she, totally disoriented, decided who she’d call next. While I was listing groceries, people were trying to call the forensic offices and listing what they’d need to buy.
There’s something mysterious about death. How sometimes we prepare the way or God prepares us without us knowing.
Black clothes were hanging in my closet for the next day.
We can only hope of the day where there will be no more pain, sorrow or crying. It’s where we will find healing and where we will never lose again.