Old News

The rain keeps coming.  I saw all of the people waiting in the entrance way yesterday and wondered why the entrance way?  Why not the place?  But today I was in the entrance way, talking to Stephanie on the phone, doing the exact thing.  One foot in, one foot out, waiting for it to stop.  Last year I started thinking that it doesn't drizzle any more, that it mostly pours or does nothing.  This year seems different.

When Heath Ledger died I remember hearing about it from my boss at the time.  He was talking to Elise and he broke the news.  It was a joke.  It wasn't relevant.  But what he said was, "Go ahead Elise and shelve the books.  Go shelve the pain away."

I took comfort in that memory when I got off the desk and had a half hour to shelve some children's books at the library.  Jordan came in and couldn't chat but asked me how my day was going.  I gave a so-so hand shake sign.  He said he hoped the rest of it went better. 

Earlier, when I was on the desk, I read an email that my coworker had died.  I sort of gasped and then walked around the block for a minute and then came back.  There wasn't a release it in, it wasn't that kind of moment.  It was more like the settling in of a lingering cloud, a permission.  A go ahead for the small encroaching gloom.

I found my coworkers excruciatingly annoying after that.  They were separate from me and this thing happening at this other workplace.  I told a few people what was going on and they gave a little pause, but it was like, "life goes on, yes?"  There's a little girl reading a pamphlet in the aisle.  She doesn't know how to read, but she is reading.  There are other small people coming into the world, like August.

I'm really excited about Auggie.  When I think of him and his parents, my heart fills with joy.  New eyes are opening all over the place.  Life goes on, yes.

Bill's death seems different then Tom's.  Both coworkers gone this year.  When I think of Tom, I think of carelessness.  Footloose and fancy free.  Not giving a fuck.  Eating rubbish and staying up late. High cholesterol, genetics, that kind of thing.  But when I think of Bill, I think of toil.  I think of a black man in America trying to support too many people with a warehouse job. Doing custodial work. Stressing into the phone.  The fake gun he took off his son and put in the towel closet. Being responsible to everyone and trying to hide out from it.  Driving a minivan.  Hanging up Christmas decorations on the fence. Stringing things together.

Maybe there was more triumph than that.  I bet there was a lot more than that for both of them.  Icebergs even.  But we only see so much.  Coming in here.  Chatting over coffee or almonds.

The thing about death for me is one day the person is there and then the next day they are not.

Zion is standing next to me at the computer while the rain keeps me in.  I hadn't seen her in about a year, but now two days in a row.  She noticed that too.  As I turn to leave she turned to me.  She held out her arms and I walked into them.  I hadn't told her anything.  We had been standing quietly, side by side.

It wasn't a stranger's hug, it was a lover's hug.  It was a mother's hug.  It was a best friend I wish you well.  It was an I'm sorry for your loss.  It was a sometimes the world is heavy I know kind of hug.  It was a reminder.  There are all kinds of people who work in all kinds of ways, and sometimes they happen to find each other.