Alone

She sat, watching the sun rise over the ocean. The sky was streaked on the diagonal. It was a thin place where the separation between the sacred and the profane could be breached.

Her cancer treatments had begun and things were going well but she was tired and so alone. A private person, she kept her illness to herself, confiding in no one. But one day she told a friend a little of her fears, but shut down when pressed for details. They parted, her friend telling her she was only a phone call away, and that gave her comfort and strength, knowing someone was thinking of her. She needed the strength as she went through her daily tasks, managing the organization, navigating the petty politics, trying to keep her sanity through the myriad of details.

She watched the dog trainer on the beach. The dogs were surrounding the trainer, sitting obediently in a circle, waiting the command. One by one the trainer would signal and each dog would run to the trainer, sit, lie down, get up, and return to position. How did he do that?

Why couldn't she order her thoughts and emotions to sit, stay, lie down? In a moment of panic, for no one recovers from stage four melanoma, she called her friend, the friend who was only a phone call away, and asked her to come by and sit with her, she was so frightened. Her friend said, "Just buck up, you are wearing me out. I have nothing to give." What kind of person would do this, offer support on demand and then walk away?

She gazed again at the ageless ocean, which had held the gaze of countless suffering souls before her, and then she shot herself through the head.