The snow has again begun to fall – gently blanketing the already blizzard-weary Boston. Some are frustrated by travel that is constricted by the 4+ feet of snow that has already hit the area. Others are resigned to the realization that it is all out of our hands. For me -- it is cleansing. The fresh powder representing a fresh coat of paint that one would apply to a home, car, or boat that is worn from use. Last week, a work-mate stopped me, urging me to call a mutual friend. Her tone was solemn; I pressed her for more information. |
The week prior had already been difficult, with the shooting death of a 44yo cardiologist at a local hospital who also happened to be my classmate’s husband. A subsequent email from the Chair of my Department reporting the tragic death of my colleague’s husband who died suddenly while on a business trip in Florida – he was 42.
Nothing could prepare me for the news I was about to receive:
My friend’s 14-year-old daughter had died.
It took about 24 hours for me to summon the courage to call. When we spoke, mom told me that she had gone in to wake her daughter for school and found her unresponsive. Dad tried desperately to revive their baby; he continued CPR until EMT arrived. She was declared dead upon arrival to the hospital.
Today, I am worn – physically, emotionally, mentally, and perhaps even spiritually. Burdened as the eaves of the structures bearing the heavy snows.
Nothing could prepare me for the news I was about to receive:
My friend’s 14-year-old daughter had died.
It took about 24 hours for me to summon the courage to call. When we spoke, mom told me that she had gone in to wake her daughter for school and found her unresponsive. Dad tried desperately to revive their baby; he continued CPR until EMT arrived. She was declared dead upon arrival to the hospital.
Today, I am worn – physically, emotionally, mentally, and perhaps even spiritually. Burdened as the eaves of the structures bearing the heavy snows.
This morning, I attended the funeral of a 14yo girl; Thursday the wake of a 42yo man; a week prior, services for a 44yo colleague. In death, all 3 are at peace. It is the living who must now go on and, well…. Live. These tragedies are poignant during this month of February when we are celebrating the legacy of black men and women who have made powerful contributions to this nation and the world. In some ways, death is easy – it is final. But living and truly standing for something, is the challenge. Some say they are willing to die for their family members or even a cause. But I ask, what are you willing to LIVE for? |
Weary indeed, I embrace today’s snow, powdery soft and white - a fresh start. It’s time to live.