For Absent Friends
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine!
WARNING: Character death
I can't wear this tie. Cameron gave it to me for Christmas, and it's the nicest tie I own. Obviously, I am going to throw out whatever tie I wear today. I always throw out my tie, socks and underwear from the day of a funeral. Call it superstitious, or neurotic, or whatever the hell you want, but I'll opt for the ugly navy tie from the back of my closet.
All done. I have that funeral look- dark suit and a dark tie, sharply contrasting with my crisp white shirt. I look horrible. I would never dress like this normally. But today is not normal by any means.
Cameron is coming to pick me up in ten minutes. I have no idea why I agreed to let her pick me up, but I did. I guess it's better than arriving alone.
My colleague died two days ago, and today he is being buried. My friend died two days ago.
One of my only friends. One of my only friends died two days ago, and today he is being buried.
I'm a doctor. I don't show emotion. I am not emotional. As a doctor, I stare death in the face every single day. Yet, I never think about death as something that comes for one of us. We're the healers, we don't get sick. We don't die. Sure, I was once very sick myself, but look at me- I'm alive. Because death doesn't come for us, death comes for everybody else.
Regardless of all that crap I allowed myself to believe about the invincible doctor, his death was premature. He didn't die gracefully, and he didn't die with dignity. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he stepped in a puddle that had a live wire dangling into it after a storm.
He didn't die valiantly; he died from an electrically charged puddle.
He made the cover of every local newspaper and even some nationally, but they didn't concentrate on his brilliant medical career, or how he was easily one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. Instead, they concentrated only on his death.
I'm stoic. I kept repeating that as a mantra to myself for the last two days to keep from shedding any tears, and so far it's been working. But not today. Today is his funeral, and just this once I am going to allow myself to cry in front of everybody. It's my way of telling everybody yes, we were friends, yes, I miss him, and yes, I am mourning.
And I will be mourning for months to come.
"Foreman?"
Cameron's voice came from behind me. She had let herself in. "Foreman, we're going to be late. I have the car running outside, you ready?" she asked. Her face was already streaked with tears.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, letting her lead the way out.
Because really, when are you ever ready to burry your 28-year-old friend?
end