A Single Bullet

A single bullet, a cancer cell, a COVID infection, a misplaced word. It takes so little to remove so much—the life of a loved one, a hole bigger than the trajectory of a bullet.

This is not meant to be a downer, but a reminder to care about each other. To tell our friends and family how much they mean to us—it is rare that we know our own end, so every moment is precious. The kindness we extend may save a life.

We could not save my friend and co-worker—he could not save himself, until he could end his pain. But we could and did tell him we loved him.

It was not from lack of trying on my friend’s part—he fought a heroic battle—depression is an eater of the soul—my friend’s life was lost before the bullet ended his physical self, his pain ended there. For us remaining, one can hope that healing will begin, my friend is no longer suffering, the hole torn in me is still very raw.