I dont know where he came from

Or where he went.

Eight years (and two months) ago, I grabbed the sorry small little man in a white coat, who was sent to deliver bad news.  I grabbed his coat and pushed him into the wall yelling for him to tell me something else.  To tell me where she had went.  The short man with bad bedside manner, sent to deliver the worlds most crushing blow.  What happened next was a blur of more white coats, and threats of officers being called.

I didn’t care who they called, as long as they brought her back.  And no, I didn’t want to see “My daughter” I wanted to know where my wife was, and why she was “Gone” where had she GONE.  How could they have lost her, it wasn’t possible.  The hospital was small, and if they weren’t going to look for her, I was.  In my mind I knew “Gone” meant “Gone.”  Not, missing.  But I didn’t want to believe it.

I don’t know why he popped into my mind today.  That little man with the white coat.  I don’t think I have ever given him much thought, except, of course, when reliving that day.  But today I was thinking about him.  Wondering who he was.  And what he thought.  It was routine, Im sure, for him.  To go in, tell the news, and go out.  Day in and day out.  He saw death more than once, Im sure.  And had either broken the news one too many times, or hadn’t told anyone before.  Because he didn’t seem concerned about it.  He seemed like he was telling my team lost on football, but hey!  His team won.

I wonder if he shook his head as I walked away.  Put his coat on later that day and went home to his family.  I wonder if that day had an impact on him like it did me, Im doubting it did.  I doubt he even gave a second thought to it.  I wonder how many times he relived that moment…not the one of why he was there, and what he was telling me, but the moment that perhaps he thought his life was to end at the hands of an insane man.

I wonder if he still works there, or if he transferred.  If he is still telling people, or if hes moved on.  I wonder if he has a family.  Or if he ever even paid it a second thought.  More than likely he shook his head, straightened his jacket and moved onto his next patient.

I don’t even know his name, or if he was even a doctor.  To be honest I don’t know what he was.  Just a short man, with a white jacket, that introduced the concept of death to me.


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