A Mother's Words On Loss

I stood in the darkness of the new moon, in the middle of the cemetery. I saw many graves belonging to countless strangers from several centuries, but I could not see his. It wasn't that I didn't know where it was. I stood less than twenty feet away from it. I could pick up a pinecone and throw it, knowing it would land on his grave. Not that I could visually confirm it. It was as if a veil stood between my mind and that sight.

So I stood and stared at nothing, and tried to wrap my mind around it, around him. So many things went through my mind, but in my present melancholy, one thing stood out. It was the way he would rest a comforting hand on your shoulder, and with that wordless gesture tell you that he empathized. That he was there for you. That in any way he had control over he would make it better.

As had happened a number of times, I felt like I could almost feel his hand now. I realized that I could in fact feel a hand, but it wasn't his. It was heavier and more feminine than his.

I turned to see Her standing a few paces away. She was robed in black, Her face obscured by shadows of her own making. "And this, then, is your perception of me? That I am heavy handed?" She asked.

"At the moment, could you blame me?" I asked.

"Come." She commanded, turning and walking through the cemetery.

I followed Her and the scenery around me changed. I recognized the mausoleums at Holy Sepulchre, even as they faded out of existence, to be replaced by the hills of Mt. Hope cemetery. These gave way to Gettysburg, then Arlington and beyond.

The changing scenery made it difficult to keep my balance. The ground that I was walking on didn't shift, on the contrary, the scenery lined itself up around us. The constant changes were just so dizzying that walking in a straight line was nearly imposssible.

"Keep your focus on me." She said. "It will help keep you from being disoriented."

"Is that supposed to be a suggestion for right now or a life lesson?" I asked.

"Since you are alive now, why wouldn't it be both?" She asked. She had stopped and I was looking at field. "There are dead here as well." She answered the question before I asked.

"So why are we fixating on the dead?" I asked Her. "Can't we go somewhere where death is not the focus?"

"The focus is yours, not mine." She answered. "But close your eyes and I will offer an alternative."

I closed my eyes and felt the temperature and humidity change immediately. There was no breeze anymore, and even through closed eyes I noticed that the lighting had changed. Opening my eyes again I saw that we were in the grotto.

"One of the only places you have been that death has never touched." She explained.

She walked up to the altar that I had seen Her lie on in the past, then turned and sat on a throne of stone that hadn't been there when She began the motion.

"The loss troubles you." She said, the compassion evident on Her beautiful face as it came out of the shadows. "Much more than the last one we discussed."

"I was not prepared for this much pain." I admitted.

"Because one was an acquaintance. Someone close to a friend of yours. The other was a man whom you loved." She explained the obvious to me.

"How long will this pain last before it goes away?" I asked Her.

"Do you really want it to?" She asked in return.

"Of course. No. I don't know." I sat down on the ground and looked at Her. I was confused. She had the answers. I would wait for Her this time.

"This loss is painful. A type of pain that is not only great, but something to which you are completely unaccustomed." I simply nodded my agreement. She leaned forward and met my eyes with that piercing gaze of Hers. "The pain is so great that you would give anything to make it go away, but you fear that should the pain go, you would be insulting his memory or worse, would forget him entirely."

"That's about it in a nutshell." I replied. "So which is it to be?"

The image of a church superimposed itself over the grotto, so I could see hints of the latter under the former. The church layout was such that I sat in front of the steps leading to the altar, looking forward at the casket. She sat at the foot of the casket. We both stood, and I got the impression that the throne vanished, but it was hard to tell with this double exposure.

As She walked past the casket towards me, She said, "This is not the whole story." She pointed over my shoulder and I could see the casket disappearing in my peripheral vision even as I found myself staring at my own back. My other self was kneeling next to my wife. (Or to be accurate to the timing of the imagery, the woman who would be my wife when this ceremony ended.) She stepped up next to the priest and pointed toward the first pew.

There he stood, next to MC. Both appearing ditinctly uncomfortable from the tuxes and the length of the boring ceremony. (The video I have even catches Martha yawning.)

"You see, you've already imprinted him into your heart and your soul." She said. MC faded into the background with everyone else as dozens of scenes from the reception involving my lost friend played around the image of him from the church. "You could not forget him if you tried."

More scenes began adding themselves to those already playing in the grotto, as they began overlapping each other in a sort of ethereal "this is his life" episode.

"So will the pain go away, or at least fade?" I asked Her, overwhelmed by my memories being played out for me.

"I am afraid that is not likely." She responded. With a wave of Her hand, the scenes stopped, leaving us alone again. "But the frequency of it will go away. You will remember many of those stories fondly. The pain that will come and go with some of these memories will become a part of your life, like your knee pain, or the ache from your broken arm. It will just be what is."

"That doesn't sound like a very optimistic prediction." I pointed out.

"It is not a pessimistic, or dour one." She replied. "But this you will learn on your own in time."

I stared over at the water. "What do I do in the mean time?"

"Continue to love." She said, as several people appeared in front of me. "Continue to care." My family and close friend appeared with the others. "Continue to live." The images began pouring in now, one after another. Person after person, each one recognizable by face if the names didn't come to me. Thousands of people and scenes from my life pouring out so quickly that I only got glimpses.

"Take care of those important to you." She said, gesturing to the side where the first two groups were alone once more. "And take care of one whom you so often neglect who is important to me." Following Her pointing finger I saw my own reflection in the water.

Looking at myself in the water, I remembered the question I had been planning to ask Her. Turning I found Her standing directly in front of me. Her beauty glaring, nearly blinding me. I fumbled for the words. Then, with a smile, something seemed to fade, and She was merely gorgeous. "This is not the time, dear wolf." She said.

Brushing this comment aside, I asked. "Are we a failed experiment?"

"This is not the time." She repeated. She leaned in and took my head in Her hands. "Rest your mind for the moment." She whispered, laying Her lips to my forehead.

And for a moment, I did.

Gomenasai

Some of you folks knew him as Jamesomeone. Some of you knew him by name. Some just in passing. Most of you have the misfortune of not knowing him at all. As of April 28, 2007, those of you who never had the opportunity missed your last chance to be blessed by knowing him.

My memories don't go back far enough to not include him. He was my friend for most of my life. He was the best man at my wedding. He was a brother to me. Now I am left holding onto emptiness and thinking of so many ways that I might have failed him.

He was always so impressed by the intelligence MC and I possessed. He would frequently comment on how much more intelligent I was. About how it sometimes took him a considerable amount of time to catch up to what we were talking about. Not wanting to be patronizing, I told him that he was right. I told him that the paperwork stated that MC and I were, in theory, more intelligent than 98% of the population, so he was in good company. Now I wonder if I should have lied and disagreed with him. I pointed out that methodically and at his own pace he always caught up. That he was the storehouse for tons of knowledge that I knew nothing about. That this helped us as a team, with his wealth of knowledge and my quick little brain, we accomplished all sorts of things. Apparently this wasn't enough.

He used to praise all sorts of accomplishments I had made. Things that I gave little credit to. Things he gave too much credit to. My ego would get in the way of beating him over the head with the obvious facts that belittled my accomplishments. A band we were both fans of sings parts of several songs on their english album in russian. I used to (and still do) listen to all of the russian versions of the songs more frequently. They just sound more natural that way. As such, we would ride around in his Saturn and I would sing along with the songs, and he would be amazed that I sang right along with the russian lyrics. It didn't matter to him that I could do so because I listened to the songs every day, and at parts was simply emulating the sound. It didn't matter to him that the translations of the songs were available on the internet. At one point he commented that it was cool that I knew all the words and I learned them from listening to the songs. It wasn't until a later conversation that I realized he thought I taught myself the language by repeatedly listening to the russian versions of the songs, forgetting that I actually had studied the language briefly, and all of the above reasons.

I couldn't break him of thinking that I was somehow better than him. That I was something to be looked up to. I couldn't get him to realize that he was so much better than I was. That he was someone I looked up to.

He was the one who always inspired me to be a better human being. His giving nature, his work for the community. His history as an Eagle Scout, habitat for humanity volunteer, volunteer fireman, and life guard at several different installations just amazed me. I couldn't see how one person could have that much to give. Even before friends and family were brought into the picture. Perhaps one person can't. Perhaps that is what happened.

There isn't a place I can go that isn't touched by a memory of him. He is in my MP3 player, since half of the songs on it were of bands I got him into or vice versa. He comes to mind when I am watching television, or listening to conversations on the bus. I can't go anywhere without the risk of this hole suddenly ripping itself open again.

I can't help but feel that I failed him. There had to have been something I could have done. Something I could have seen if I just paid a little more attention. I just stare at my hands and feel as empty as they are.

On April 28, 2007, he took the last train for the coast. Two days later a phone call brought to a screeching halt my life, or something close to it.