Today I found out that one of my patients died suddenly. I’ve seen her every month for about two years – a really nice teenaged girl. Seventeen. In grade twelve. They say she had a massive heart attack. How can a girl that age die of a heart attack? It doesn’t make sense. It is not right. She was too young. It is a bit like a piece out of a bad dream.
You know what I hate the most ? It’s the thought that in a few months we’ll have all moved on and will begin to forget. But I bet her parents won’t – ever. Sometimes it seems like life should just stop for a bit to hold the memories longer.
And all the Tsunami victims – we’ll forget them too soon too.
Life will go on. We forget or get numb or something.
Sometimes I wish I could just break down and cry for all the hurts of people I know. I think I might feel better even if it would not make anything better.
I think I am too much like my father. Maybe I learned from him to hold in the emotions that simply had to be kept in control in order to help others. I vividly remember the day he cried – huge gut wrenching aching cries. He was a pastor and spent a lot of time with people in trouble. One of the men he saw often went crazy and murdered his wife; drinking I think. I suppose there were other times but this is the one I remember. His hurt was suddenly just so visible and I was a little girl watching the strongest man I knew weep.
Funny how this memory always comes back when I wish I could wash away pain with tears.