I didn’t expect to. You are a stranger to me.
You weren’t my patient.
You weren’t my friend.
I didn’t know you.
I wasn’t part of the team that tried to save you.
But I grieve for you.
A life cut short. Similar age to my children.
For what?
Parents cry tonight.
Siblings mourn.
Cousins and extended family are brokenhearted.
A family is torn apart – a vital piece of it missing, gone forever.
I grieve for them too.
The family with the weight of your loss forever etched in their minds and hearts.
I grieve for the friends who are left behind.
The ones who saw the friend who died, the friends who saw the one who could have been, should have been.
I grieve for them. The family. The friends. The acquaintances.
I grieve a referred grief.
You could have been my child. I could have been the mother. The sibling. The cousin and extended family. I could have been the friend or acquaintance.
I was the wife.
And I grieve for the losses no one expects.
I grieve for you tonight.