Hello everyone, everywhere,

Hey, everybody, I hope things are going well. The band’s been working, and that’s been going great. Everybody seems to be doing their thing. Okay, that’s enough of the band.

Actually, tonight I wanted to talk about my friend. She owned a condo two floors down from mine, and she was the first person I met when I moved there. Because of medical issues, she was alone, and she was very lonely. Though she had a family she was dealing with her own demons, and that’s really hard to do. But I would always go outside, and there she would be, watering her flowers. It’s so funny, when I first moved there I thought she was the caretaker because she was doing all the work. She laughed and said, “No, that’s just what I do.” That was the first time I met her, and I knew right away I liked her.

I only knew her a year, but we had some great chats together. It helped the endless ticking of the clock go by a lot easier. I’d sit with her and she’d rant and rave about something, and I’d just laugh and try to calm her down. She was a very gentle soul; she used to walk with her little dog, Taffy. (I always called the dog Chico). I used to think that I should go walk with her so she wasn’t walking alone, but I never did. I just watched, and we waved.

The last time I saw her a couple of weeks ago, I was coming down the front steps, and there she was, watering the flowers. So I stopped and we had one of our fifteen-minute chats.  The last thing I remember about her was that we were smiling and laughing with each other. That’s a really good thing to have. So tonight, I’ve done my best in just a few words to try to explain that night. That’s it for that.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. This is for Shy.



Monday night dark. As I looked down from my safe world, the world below had become broken. Lights from RCMP cars on. No noise.

And then the answer came. I watched an officer take the kit. He had the face of a man who knew and had faced  this before. The old me, usually compelled to see what’s up, thought it might be an accident. Too quiet.

I never left my chair. Could not move. Death, oh I know death. I have felt a heart stop forever. It should have happened to me. I died. I lived. Go figure.

I lost another angel. Her name was Shyla. She was only 48. Those of us left behind will shed the tears to glitter her pathway home. She is my friend.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson

One comment on “SAD NIGHT ON 48TH

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