I don’t want to write about the twenty two year old cop whose funeral was Friday. It saddens me. So I’ll quote a passage from Colum McCann’s novel:
The doctor turned with a shrug. Oh, God. Oh. We pulled two very simple wooden chairs up by his bed. Teach me who I might be. Teach me what I can become. Teach me.
The doctor came in, clipboard to his chest. He spoke, quietly, of internal injuries. A whole new language of trauma. The electrocardiogram beeped. Adelina leaned down to him. He was saying something in his morphine haze. He had seen something beautiful, he whispered. She kissed his brow. Her hand on his wrist. Heart monitor flickering.
(Pp.71-72, Let The Great World Spin, by Colum McCann)
Outside and inside St. Patrick’s Cathedral his colleagues and family showed up to pray over and put him to rest, as they say.
Across the world, in Vietnam, Thich Nhat Hanh’s body is chanted over and cremated.
Up and down the east/northeast coast today a blizzard.
Snowfall and snowdrifts everywhere.
Howling wind and quiet accumulation through unmoving silence.