I sit on in silence, barely conscious of the hum of a new printer, the murmur of colleagues’ voices on the other side of the office. In my mind your breathless little voice telling me there is a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach; that you have been trying to defrost the fridge and can’t go on, that today is better than Friday but worse than yesterday. My heart aching with helplessness. Bringing the vulnerable quailing heart back to the silence, the present moment that is the only reality I know. Death so close at times since your attempted suicide. Nothing left to say.
Prayer like an echoing wordless cry in the office. Lord, come to my aid, O Lord make haste to help me.
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