Too soon.
Too tragic.
No one saw it coming.
He seemed fine last week.
He's in a better place.
May he rest in peace.
He will be missed.
His legacy will not be forgotten.
From surprise to critique.
From anger to grief.
That. This.
And everything in between.
Not one has ever
been there, done it
and returned to tell
a better way of doing it.
The job of death
is perhaps
the least appreciated
(and most critiqued)
Not a word of praise
even for efficiency.
Delivering consistent results
year after year, minute to minute
without a day's break
No sick leave,
annual holidays,
Not a moment
or breath wasted.
And what could be more incredulous than this:
no one is ever truly prepared,
though not one will be spared
one last meeting with her.
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