Margaret posted a few days back about the death of a high school student at her school. This is not the first time, it sadly won’t be the last time she will face this; each time she writes on the subject I am taken back to the deaths of my own classmates.
It’s an odd to be remembering the dead on Epiphany. This holy day that marks the arrival of Light and Truth that the Christ child represents. Wise men kneeling, bringing gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh. And I’m thinking of Jesse.
The whole town mourned when you died, Jesse love. We loved you. We loved you so much. You belonged to us in ways that you could not imagine. In ways that do not wane with the passage of time and cannot be stolen from us by the loss of memory. You who could do no wrong, left a gapping whole in our hearts and in memories that will not come to pass. It seems wrong that we have gone on without you.
On this Epiphany day, when light and truth seems so far away, I cast out to a future that did not happen. Who would you have become if the sea had not lured you? Where would you be if the sand had not swallowed you?
But I cannot imagine you bald, or graying, divorced or father of three. I can only see you smiling at me, Jesse— you sporting your Cheshire grin, caught for spying and proud of it! I can only see you laughing at me—me, gangly at 14, leaning against the chain fence mocking your backhand. Did you know I admired your ease in the world, an ease I still haven’t found? I can only hear you sounding loud on that trumpet of yours. I didn’t like your jazz or your tennis shorts or your incessant interest in listening to my piano lessons in secret, but I loved you.
Wise men bringing gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh. The shining forth of the Universe, bright rays of light blinding us with hope. Today, when we celebrate this arrival of hope in the form of humankind I am stunned by the memory of you.
At first I didn’t know what to say for fear of trampling over what you’ve written. The fear of things better left unsaid, you know? I had to think long and hard about Epiphany and remembering or honoring the dead. And yet that is what the Magi did – prophesying the eventual death of Christ. Epiphany being the grasp of reality through something simple, striking – whatever that something is – the death of a loved one – or the birth of a new hope. And so I am forced to examine what Epiphany is to me. It is uncomfortable to sit with – but sit I will. I’ll try to focus on the beauty of the life I have – and honor those who’ve gone before all in the same breath…
Dealing with death is one of the most difficult things we do; those of us left have to find a way to learn from it in some way. It is odd that we can’t envision those we’ve lost getting older. They are frozen in time. Beautiful post, Wende.
You should tell Jesse’s parents that you remember him. It will be a gift to them and maybe that’s in keeping with the epiphany.
Sometimes the harsh reality of the here and now is so powerful it seems as though it transcends life. Like faith. Nicely wrought, Wende.