He died today. I'll never know what type of man he was or if his mind was free of the cloud of regret. I don't know how many hearts he touched or how many smiles he gave to those who needed one the most. I only know that my lashes were spiked with the salt of my tears. Why would I cry over a man I've never met? I don't know, really. I tried to prevent the tears pooling in my eyes from scalding a path down my cheeks, but alas! I'm simply not man enough to restrain such a torrential onslaught of emotion.
The sickening sound of his ribs cracking as his son performed CPR on his still form keeps ringing in my ears. It seems so horrible to be on the way to your parents house to celebrate your Mother, only to arrive to discover your Mother sobbing as she tries in vain to resuscitate your Father.
I don't know. This death really bothered me. That's fairly strange, as both of my jobs require me to face death head on at any given moment and I've not really had a problem with it until today. It's not like I've not had to deal with death before. It's just that somewhere along the way today, I managed to slip. I let myself get caught up in the spirit of hope. I let it touch close to home, much too close. Maybe it's just the fact that this guy still had a chance, whereas the others I've dealt with were completely beyond resuscitation. I just don't know.
I really can't tell you who cried the most...his family or if I hold that position....
