loneliness: [17] seventeen by Brian Fuchsin memory of Mike Henson
Once again a death made me numb. But this time I finally cried, and I never cry when people die -- I just can't. But Mike... she was strong, mentally, physically. She became consumed with cancer, which trickingly fled the body and suddenly returned without warning... One final blow. There are not others like Mike and I am cold at the thought that I will never know others like her. Some people seem to never get sick or hurt -- they spend their lives carrying others, nursing, loving. If we stop riding on the backs of these people, who seem happy to have us there, we might see them cry or cringe in pain from the awful weight of so many in need. These deaths are tragic. When the strong have gone, the rest of us must learn how to walk... must help each other to fill the shoes of the one we lost. When it set in -- when the hard fact set in, I cried. I cried knowing that I would never see her loving stride, her tender and honest smile, her patient eyes. I cried. Every inch of me trembled at the terrible revelation of her now permanent absence. And somehow, peace has followed. Rest well, dear friend. 09/26/2000 Posted on 02/20/2009 Copyright © 2024 Brian Fuchs
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