The arms that used to be lifted as a smiling youngster ran toward you are fixed at his side. The flow of conversation is silent. The eyes you used to catch glimpses of or look into are shut. The noises that go with life, doors opening and closing, the remote changing, chairs scrapping, the muffled swish of the refrigerator door, the scent that lingers in the air comes to memory where it lives, but is never the same as life.
This is what you miss. The reality of a casket should not be covered with politics; instead, it should lead the way to a quiet sharing of life and its meaning and the pursuit of ways to protect it as a gift within family and community. Grief is difficult enough without those who would add the burden of blame and a blind eye to a family and community in pain. Tomorrow/today let us offer kind words and caring hearts to a family. Let’s be our best.
~~The comment of Walterrhett is so poignant. His words create images that just make ne want to join in with all U. S. citizens in being “our best” to honor a young life that now lives on in those memories that will hopefully be a source of comfort to family and friends ravaged with grief. May Michael’s life always be cherished as a blessing. Thank you for your comments that are so gentle and sensitive about the life moments in sounds and smells and nuances that make up a life and how people have no meaningful differences in the land of loving our children.
~~”I would be overcome and inconsolable, that so much of me would die with my child that not enough of me would be left to carry on.” There’s the anger at how this came to pass, but even more there is the grief that the child becoming a man will never smile that smile again, never call or laugh or fill the doorway … the emptiness is beyond pain. And we carry on anyway, in our totally changed universe. It helps when people are kind.
(I was honored to have this comment selected for a gold badge as a Times editors pick. /wr)