Francine Crider

The Bridge

She walked out into the cold air of a waning winter night. The wind was still, and the sky was cloudy and filled with the smell of impending snow. It had been a long night on the unit. No deaths, but so many precious souls and their family saying goodbye. She understood how they felt. Not in that fleeting, “I know how you feel” way, but in the way only somebody who knows the loss of someone integral to their world feels. She had always hated that expression “they are in a better place and out of pain” or even worse, “it will get easier with time”. Although in her heart she knew the part of being in a better place was true, it did not lessen the missing. She had always been grateful for the long walk to her car. A time for unwinding, releasing, breathing. Recently, the walk seemed longer and the quiet overwhelming. It had started to snow. She was glad. It covered the tears that filled her eyes as the memories of leaving this place not so long ago came flooding back, and with it, the missing.