Che walked up behind me on Jackson Street outside the brickety face of the community health center, “Hey there.”
“Hey Che, how are you doing?”
As we walked he said, “I’m ok. The shock as has passed, I just feel … lost”
I nodded.
We paused by the little pedestrian bridge leading over the canal to the Appleton Mills apartments, “There are a million questions, it’s overwhelming. You just need to answer one of them and be ok with the answer. After that, everything will be ok.”
“You’re probably right,” He looked at me with his brown eyes pleading for me to do the work of finding meaning in his grief and loss, but I couldn’t do it. Maybe I could but I just wouldn’t.
I started to shrug and thought better of it, “What do are you going to do?”
“There’s no services, he’s already been cremated. I”m not sure there’s much else to do. In fact, I’m not sure there’s anything I want to do.”
Che’s vagueness left me curious as to whether he meant there was nothing he wanted to do about his brother, or about everything else in life.
After a few minutes talking about the weather and tonight’s ball game, we both had to go.
Well, I guess he had to go, I know I just wanted to.
I watched him adjust his black jacket and keep on down the sidewalk wherever he was going.
Then he was gone.
Then I was gone.
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