Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Turning the page

Two of our best pathologists and teachers were honored and thanked at a small get together organized by all of us appreciative residents, a few days before they both packed their things and moved away, to a place that would hopefully treat them better.

Not that we didn't treat them well. We did and we loved them very much. Matter of fact, we are the one thing they will miss the most, they said. But "we" have no say in anything. We endure. We sit there, hands tied, teeth clenched, smothered and muzzled, as we sadly observe our beautiful hand-crafted mosaic of a world, crumble back to nothing.

MJ, one of the two, had been around this institution for most of his life. This was his home. His shelter. The one place where he learned everything he knew, where he taught everything he learned, where a single unfortunate incident completely and permenantly transformed his existence.
He, these buildings and this soil, became one. His name was on the walls and the desks, not written in ink, but stamped in sweat and blood.
And to top everything off, he had just bought a house, less than 6 months ago, because he was tired of his condo, and because he had a girlfriend now.

Yet he left.

In a snap.

The news was earth-shattering. All were in shock. As was I. But when afflictions are great, lukewarm and diplomatic interventions become sadly inadequate.

And here we remain, standing, alone, yet fiercely holding on to the shadows of our fleeting dreams.

Pages were turned, some for the better, some for the worse. And our page was turned for us. Yet the upcoming chapter is not one to look forward to.
Sad is the fate of those who can see the storm looming on the horizon, and yet can only sit and wait for it to come and destroy them and what they own.

Sad is the fate of those who want to but can not.

Blessed are those who are able to just sit, and accept.


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