What A Loss!

 

This is a loss that touches me

To the very core,

It’s my childhood friend, Sandra,

Whom I will see no more.

 

I am at a loss for words

To express what she means to me

And to that precious family of hers

Who misses her terribly.

 

The go-to person you can say

When solutions are to be fetch,

And I can never recall one time

When I have heard her fret.

 

Selflessness was her hallmark,

Those who knew her would agree,

She was a mother to the young ones,

That can be seen readily.

 

To think that in my future visits

No Sandra will be there to see

And no expectation she will turn up

To embracingly greet me.

 

I have struggled with her passing

Ever since I got the word:

Oriel and Greg passed recently

And now she is the third.

 

Margaret predeceased them all

Some years back, I recall,

But Sandra’s perceived untimely call

Is a great shock to us all.

 

 

No more Whatsapp greetings

Or encouragement for the day

And her many and varied emojis

For sure have gone away.

 

A visit to the hospital

Convinced me she was on her way

Yet, I was still disappointed

At the sad news I received that day.

 

It was Shawn who had texted

The most dread of dreaded calls,

“Sandra passed a little while ago,”

And immediately was a wall. 

 

 

 

That wall that death creates

Between a loved one and their kin,

That wall that suddenly was erected

To block me from my friend.

 

I have no cheerful words today

To offer to anyone

But in my silence simply recall

The loss of a friend now gone.

 

 

And Sandra was my friend

And always, she will be

For as long as God lends me life

And I have my memory.

 

Stewart Russell © December 11, 2022

 

Water, the Real Winner

“Water, water, water,” his voice faded away as if all of his strength had gone.

Mark had been running for a long time and at a fierce rate.  He had been punishing himself in an all out attempt to win the school’s cross country marathon.  He was not far from the finish line; only another hundred metres, but he had collapsed from exhaustion and thirst.  He had pushed himself too hard.

“Somebody get some water quickly before he passes out,” shouted a spectator.

“From where?” inquired another.  “There are no houses around here.”

“But we need water and we need it fast,” insisted yet another spectator.  They had assembled along the route to witness this annual event.  Yet, not one of them had any water and Mark was in serious trouble.

He muttered again, “Water, water, please give me water.”  His voice was barely audible.

By this time the first runner came in sight.  It was almost five minutes since Mark had collapsed.  He was way ahead of the nearest competitor yet here he was lying on the ground, unable to convert this lead into triumph.  His main problem, however, was not winning the race but getting water.  For the third time he mouthed, “Water, water.”  This time he could only form the words.  There was no sound coming from his lips.

The first runner came nearer and nearer.  “Shawn is getting closer!” shouted a spectator.  “No way Mark can win this race now.  I always knew he didn’t have a chance.  My money was always on Shawn.  This would be his third year as champion.”

“How could you be thinking of the race at this time, you insensitive idiot?” responded one of the spectators who was now fanning Mark in an attempt to revive him.

Shawn arrived at the scene and stopped.  “What’s happening here?” he asked. 

“It’s Mark.  He has collapsed from exhaustion.  He called for water but we don’t have any and as you can see, there are no houses around.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Shawn. “I still have a little with me.  I always run with my water.  Here, let me get through to him.” 

In three minutes Mark was on his feet and ready to run again.  “Come on, Mark. Let’s go.  We still have a race to finish and I can see our nearest rival in the distance.  He’s catching up quickly.” 

Mark stumbled over the finish line, with Shawn giving him just a little push.  “Congrats,” said Shawn.  “You deserve to win, Mark.” 

“Thanks,” replied Mark.  “I couldn’t have done it without your water and your push.”

They both laughed and then watched as the other competitors made their way to the finish line.  They fought for the bronze but everybody knew who had won the gold and silver. 

The announcer’s voiced boomed with the aid of the microphone.  “Here are the results of the school’s annual cross country marathon.  In third position, Henderson Skeete, in second position, Shawn Spencer and the gold goes to Mark Small.” 

If you ask him now, Mark would still tell you that the real winner was water. 

  

Stewart Russell © 1999