Grieving the death of a stranger on Thanksgiving Eve
In 1966, I was a 20- year old senior nursing student at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boson. Already able to handle significant responsibilities, I had to work in the Intensive Care Unit on that Thanksgiving Day. Right after the day shift ended at 3:30 p.m., a classmate and I drove to my sister’s home in Scituate MA. It meant a lot to me that the family was waiting until we got there to have dinner.
That Thanksgiving and all of the ones since have never been the same for me as those wonderful carefree ones preceding it had been.
The evening before, at the Charles Street Red Line MBTA station, I watched a tall man, in a beige raincoat, carrying a brief case, jump in front of the train.
I was waiting for the train, maybe sometime around 5:00 PM. It wasn’t quite dark yet; the weather was mild, cloudy and gloomy.
Some of the details have faded but I remember this stranger walking quickly past me, just inches away and maybe for a quick second making eye contact. I always smiled at people in those days so maybe I did then as well. He was in such a hurry. Why didn’t I wonder why he was moving at such a fast pace on his way to the far end of the platform, away from the others waiting for the train?
Just a few minutes later, as the train was approaching, he jumped onto the track and the screeching of the brakes pierced the quiet of the twilight. It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure it was real, but reality struck as workers quickly cordoned off the area and closed the station.
Who was this man? A husband? A father? A businessman? Was he facing spending Thanksgiving alone? Was he having financial or marital problems? Or was it just a deep depression that holiday festivities seem to make worse for so many people? Could I have smiled harder and maybe distracted him? If he could have gotten through the holiday weekend, might he have had a change of heart? Over and over again I’ve asked these questions. The idea of never knowing anything about this person, who died in an instant right before my eyes, has made it even harder.
Now here I am again, 44 years later, still feeling so sad about the death of a stranger on Thanksgiving eve. Someone, somewhere loved that man and I just want them to know that I am so sorry for their loss.
This year, I just finally needed to share this story. I never met him or spoke to him but he will always be with me.
