We sat around the table in the breakroom of my weekly evening job. One of my co-workers (where I have the most fun with) came in a little later as usual. Our manager assigned our tasks for the evening. I tried to start a conversation with her (the co-worker) but she looked a bit distracted. Anyway, we left to do our job and already a minute later my manager came to me. Look, Lynn. We have to work the evening without her.
My first thought was that she went sick home. Because that happens the most when someone goes home in the middle (or the beginning) of a shift. Before I could confirm my theory by saying that out loud, my manager already explained. She was just called, one of her friends died tonight. I became silent immediately (not that I had to change yet to say something). I felt sorry for her, to have lost someone she cared about. My manager explained that we have given some extra time to finish the task without her. I didn’t looked forward to that but at least she could go home and take some time to let this sink in.
My manager went by everybody to explained the situation. Some kids worked really hard to finish their tasks to come and help the other girl (I usually work with as well as a group of three) and me. That evening everybody was most silent. Most of us didn’t knew the boy. But there’s something about death that gives us a smack in the face. The usual chit chats you could hear from everywhere in the building where mostly gone.
The boy lingered on my mind for a while. Something like that to happen to you in your environment. Close by or from a bit of a distance. Feeling sorry for the family the most. And while I couldn’t remembered what date it was, some parents are cursed by the memory every year of the day they lost their son.
My name is Lynn and I treasure every loved one who is still alive.
– Lynn Kentin