Today I cleaned out Shawn’s desk at work. One more step accomplished
on the business-side of grief. A few paces backwards for what it did
to my heart. I felt like I was packing up Shawn’s dreams, his
unfinished assignments, his untouched ambitions, his silent
aspirations.
I was searching for secret notes tucked in between folders of paperwork
and bags of equipment. The only hidden message I found was the humble
dedication of a man who loved his job. Slipped inside the file drawers,
I discovered unmarked determination and proficient skill. Beneath the
desktop I saw intact purpose and resolve. Resting in his cubicle
space, I noticed untouched strength and discipline; an impressive
resume of an inspiring career.
Today was the first day that I clearly remember feeling broken hope. I
packed up many things today, but hope was not one of them. I am
searching for it somewhere, yet in the moment it seems to have
disappeared.
