Year Full of Tears

Today was a regular Saturday like every other. I went to work. My Mom picked me up. We went shopping. We came home.

Little did I know that I was coming home to bad news.

I came home and took off my shoes. I hadn’t yet taken off my jacket, but something told me to just go to the den and say hi to my dad. So I went there and said Hi to him. I gave him a hug too. He covered his eyes with one hand. I asked him what had happened. He said “My friend died”. When I asked him who, I had to ask him to repeat it twice. Not because I did not hear what he said, but because I did not want to believe what he said.

Cyril Yearwood. He was the chaplain for Toronto Police’s 55 Division. It feels weird for me to type “was”. When my father told me, I simply sat down. I did not know what to say. My father was talking but I could barely hear anything past the deafening sound of sadness in my mind. He was such a wonderful and selfless man. I remember him coming to visit me all the time when I was in the hospital. I remember him praying for me, crying to God to release me from all that I was going to. So sincere. So lovely. Such a huge smile that was so bright that it could light up the darkest room…and no matter how down in the dumps you may have felt…you couldn’t help but smile also.

It’s so hard to believe that he is gone. I’m not sure how old he was. Probably in his late 60s or early 70s. It’s hard for me to tell because he was so young at heart. He was also strong…strong as ever.

Sometimes when th house phone rings, I do not answer it as i know the call is not for me. But, if I happen to be near the phone and I look at the call display and I see his name…I answer. He’s pleasant, and I like talking to him…even if it is only for a moment. I had no idea when I stepped out of the car that day, when my dad picked me up from work to take me home and Reverend Yearwood was there too, that when I looked back and said “Bye” to him…it would be the last time I’d see his smiling face. I had no idea when I hung up the phone after saying goodbye to Reverend Yearwood because my father was not home that it would be the last time I’d hear his joyful voice. I simply had no idea. I guess we rarely do.

I just want to curl up into a ball and sleep until this year is over.