Death of a Co-Worker

On Monday of last week a coworker of mine was perfectly happy and healthy. We’ll call him S. On Tuesday he was laughing and getting along with everybody. On Wednesday he got sick at work in the afternoon. He threw up quite a bit and couldn’t get about very well. He suddenly felt so ill that he decided to go to the hospital. His office mates called an ambulance for him and he was admitted for overnight observation because of chest pains and breathing problems. On Thursday they found a tumor on his liver. They took one attempt at removing it. The first procedure did not have any affect. On Friday the doctors and family opted for a second procedure which involved a substantial surgery. By Friday evening he was on full life support for the sake of recovery. By Sunday night S was dead. He is survived by his wife and children.

I found out this morning what happened to S. It was a rather solemn day in the entire office. I didn’t know anything about S. He had been with our office for about three years from what I heard. Everybody who talked about him today made it sound like he was well liked. He was cheerful, he never had a complaint, and everyone he came across seem to be happier for the encounter.

In the end it sounds like he wasn’t unlike a salesman. Except that he was selling himself. He smiled, a lot. He always put his best foot forward. He wanted people to get him for him. He wanted to leave to world a better place just by his very presence. So with all due respect to Arthur Miller I give you a final paragraph dedicated to S.

Forgive me, S. I can’t cry. I don’t know what it is, I can’t cry. I don’t understand it. Why did you ever do that? Help me S, I can’t cry. It seems to me that you’re just on another trip. I keep expecting you. S, friend, I can’t cry. Why did you do it? I search and search and I search, and I can’t understand it, S. I made the last payment on the house today. Today, S. And there’ll be nobody home. We’re free and clear. We’re free. We’re free… We’re free…


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