Thoughts of darkness & light…(Part two)
Its been exactly twenty-two days since Anthony Ghiossi’s memorial service held at St. Francis Cabrini’s church in San Jose, California. It was just prior to that when I started Part One of this blog post. I wanted to write about dark days and more promising light-filled ones.
I thought I had seen clear through to the end of the story but the days have been dragging on…sometimes it’s hard to see any rays of light after the trajectory beams of the afterlife have pulled our loved ones from our sight. That scant visibility as it is, obscured by swollen, tear-filled eyes.
It does not feel good being stuck either…unable to move on, move forward, or even move at all. So for the purpose of moving this blog along, I shall try to find words that are luminous.
The Reverend Michael Hendrickson did an excellent job at handling the ceremony, and he tried his best to bring hope to those mourning a very dark day. He spoke of how we humans, despite our best medical interventions and technological advances, still are not infallible beings. We still can not fix everything. We can not save everyone. We can not thwart death. We, quite simply, are just not in control of these things. These things that go awry, those things that delve deeply into the night.
Life is about birth. About living. And, yes, about death. It goes on about this, endlessly…for as long as we have been aware of our existence here on this earth.
There is nothing to celebrate in death. But perhaps were we to be sure of heaven, of endless love and light, we might.
There are however, endless things to celebrate about life, about living.
The Reverend called out to Anthony’s two sons, sitting small, and up front. He bade them look around them, take in the entire church full, every last pew full, of people who had loved their father; people who had admired the way he treated life, his loves. He told them to always remember this day, and all of these people who had come to respect their father. For in seeing, and remembering, they could keep that love alive.
For those who must continue on, who need to feel love, who need to see light, and promise, and continued hope in living…it is around us.
I see it in a picture; his two sons, faint smiles while the sun gleams on their blonde heads as they play in the surf at the beach. The waves wash over them, hopefully cleansing them of their sadness…with the salty seawater so similar in composition to our tears.