Grappling with Senseless Loss

Being there for each other

Random Conversations is a newsletter for those who believe in the power of a positive perspective and the joy it brings. It champions intentionally honoring ways of being and promotes the belief that we can change our world, one interaction at a time. Choose the change wisely.

Photo by Colton Sturgeon on Unsplash

It didn’t have to happen.

The doormen in my building often take on work for those of us living here. One of them preferred not to include the others and brought in two people from the outside to help him move a very large, very heavy bookcase for one of the residents.

The workers told him it was too heavy and they should not move it, but he disagreed and stood directly in front of it as it fell on top of him. He was gone in an instant, and two people will be emotionally scarred for the remainder of their days for having witnessed this.

Tragedies create ripple effects. What we do next creates even more.

Coming Together

The building I live in is fairly small for New York City – eight floors with 11-12 apartments on each. The doormen have worked here for decades. I have so enjoyed getting to know each of them, and now one is gone.

Walking home that day last week, I saw three large fire trucks and two smaller ones with lights ablaze, blocking traffic from entering or exiting our one-way street. When I got to my building, people were gathering in the lobby to hear updates on what they already knew was a very bad accident. Final news shortly followed.

We immediately began to support each other as we tried to make sense of the loss of someone we had just seen that morning. Flowers started appearing in the lobby – a remembrance from various residents. An impromptu gathering was arranged to be there for each other.

Each day since, we continue to try to make sense of it all together. Just yesterday, someone I have only said “hello” to in the past started talking to me about it, saying he still could not accept that something this unthinkable happened.

There’s something in the way we look at each other now. Our eyes wrap “how are you doing with this” and “I care” into one heartfelt silent communication. Often, we stop and talk. It feels like a warm hug.

The more I listen, the more people speak. It is healing for each of us.

Being Remembered

As they say, the truth always comes out. Those who were closest with our former doorman shared that he was reckless with his life. He refused to limit sugar while taking daily insulin shots for diabetes. They believed he brought in workers from outside the building rather than involving his colleagues to keep a larger share of the payment for himself.

Another truth was the deep friendships he had with several of his colleagues. They loved him enough to call him on his reckless tendencies, and he politely ignored them.

I felt strongly that I needed to be there for the doormen who had just lost a friend and colleague. I approached each of them when they were not busy, looked deeply into their eyes and softly asked how they were doing. Each one shared a torrent of memories and grief. I stood near them and listened.

I saw one of his friends who works in a nearby building as I walked home the other day. We knew each other well enough to exchange smiles and hellos when we passed by. This day, however, he ran to hug me and held on tight while all his pain came out in a mixture of English and Spanish.

I may not have understood every word, but I knew exactly what he was saying. I stood and held him and listened until he was ready to move on.

We do not need to know the right words to say – or any words to say. The act of listening with an open heart while someone expresses their pain is enough. In fact, it is more than enough. It is a gift that helps each of us move forward.

Reflections

I question if we can ever make sense of something so senseless and tragic.

I can understand that belief in our infallibility can get in the way of the logic of the moment and challenge our safety. I can understand that maximizing income can get in the way of choosing people who could better push back on safety issues. What I cannot understand is how you can say hello to someone in the morning and discover they have left this earthly plain in the afternoon.

I have lost multiple people in my life over the past few years, and have been fortunate that I had time to adjust to their impending passing. We were able to say all that we needed to say. We were able to be there for each other in the best ways we could.

I have always believed that the worst loss would come from having someone go out for a carton of milk and be hit by a proverbial bus. Now I know that bookcases can be just as deadly.

I shared a short list of reflections after my dear friend Barb passed last year, and it’s fitting to share it again.

• Tell people you love them, if that’s how you feel.

• Tell people how they have positively impacted your life, if that is what they have done.

• Feel free to hug - and to hug often - if the spirit moves you.

• Feel free to care and to be cared for.

Intertwined with each is an overarching belief: be mindful with your interactions. We never know which conversation will be our last.