Four Strangers In the Rain
A woman died today. She drove her car into a tree and died. And we mourned for her, four strangers in the rain.
Elephants will encircle their dead and mourn. A goose will leave the flock to tend to a member who is sick or injured. And so we stood in the rain, four strangers to her. We protected her from prying eyes, we maintained her dignity through privacy.
I didn't know her in life; I met her through death. Her hand rested casually on her leg, as if ready to gesture. A hand that could be expressive, beautiful. She had two blue Bic pens holding the bun together in her hair,a light, frivolous note. "I know who I am, I can use pens in my hair, it doesn't diminish me."
Somewhere tonight a family can't sleep, their loss still too new. I can't sleep; I feel diminished and enriched. I prayed for her as we stood there in the rain, I prayed for her journey. I told her we were watching out for her, we were tending to her. We knew she had no pulse; she still had a human bond to us. She deserved our concern, she deserved someone with her as she passed from one life into another. We were there, four strangers in the rain, to care.
We stood, quietly, mourning. Four strangers in the rain.
Copyright © Carol Sanders | Year Posted 2005
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