My father raised his hands, “I’m not here to take you home. I have news, bad news.” Tears filled his eyes.
“Your mother is dead.”
Chapter 38: Need
God, I believe in you, but I have some questions. Why do You let bad things happen to good people? Why did You have to let her die? Why her? Why me?
Maybe I should ask why not me? Why should I expect You to save me? You always abandon the good people.
Death and pain are a part of our lives. That is how You want it to be. It must be, for You have control over everything and You made us mortal.
You love death and pain, because those things make us need You. If we were always happy, we would not need You. Therefore, You, in your selfish wisdom, made us imperfect. You created sinners and killers. You gave us flaws because You are needy.
Of all your glorious and numberless creations, you love death the most. When someone dies, we need You most of all. We gather in churches, we call out to You, we pray, and we cry, to You, Lord, “Have mercy on us.”
Death serves an even greater purpose for You. We fear death and, because of this fear, we pray to You. At funerals, especially, we focus on death. Funerals and memorials are not for the dead, they are for the living. They are not testaments to our love. They are symbols of our fear. We mourn the one You took away for Your own purpose and beg You not to take us.
Why Lord, did You take her? Why did You forsake me? My mother would never have forsaken me.
Look to Your own son. You left Him. You let Him die on the cross without You. Despite Your efforts, He was not alone. His mother was there. She did not leave Him nor could she forsake Him. She was not like You.
If only You could have died instead of her. Die God. You need us, but we do not need You. Maybe if You die we would need You. Or maybe no one would care.
Chapter 39: Humanity
The day of the funeral came. If we truly believed in heaven, we all should have been happy. In truth, even Jacob was distraught.
Grief is not like happiness. Bliss can never be complete. There is always something to hold it back. Even in the greatest joy, we know happiness is too wonderful to last. Bliss destroys itself.
Grief is different. Grief does not deliberate. It comes upon you with its entire force and thrusts you into darkness so complete that you know there is no hope and no escape. The Well of Despair has no bottom. Sorrows come, not singly, but in thousands of battalions to pierce your soul with swords of sorrow.
A great multitude has come to the funeral. All desire to take their share of the misery. A funeral is like the last party you will ever throw. No one comes except those who love you or are, for some other reason, compelled to come. All come to share their suffering. There is a kind of pleasure in crying, there is joy in great misery. You smile at your tears but have them in your heart. Solamen miseris habuisse doloris. (misery loves company).
I watch them all gather and think how funerals prove humanity is very much like a swarm of bees. A bee cannot be selfish. Every bee will sacrifice its life to protect the group. Bees were created so that their first sting will kill them. Even so, they will not hesitate to sting anything they think threatens their group.
The human organism is quite similar. We honor with funerals those who sacrifice themselves, whether all at once, or a little at a time. We gather as if to tell ourselves, “This one has died but the whole will live on.” In the end someone will say, “It was a lovely funeral.” That will be the end of a life.
We will depart and eventually we will forget them. The group will go on because one part cannot force us to forget about the good of the whole. Grief and love will depart and humanity will go on.
This lesson God teaches us through funerals, “Death is a necessary part of life. Life would not exist without death.”
For the human organism to survive, some of its parts must die. If birth is a miracle then death must be more so. Thus, old age is a miracle. Thus, wars and great famines must exist and are Gods greatest gifts to us.
God created humanity to be more than the sum of its parts. The individual cannot be more important than the whole. Therefore, why should God care about my misery at my mother’s death? She is but one person out of billions. God must consider the whole. When you live next to the cemetery, you cannot weep for everyone.
In truth, humanity is more like a tiny lichen clinging to a rock in the artic wasteland. A tiny lichen, living for hundreds of years hardly, if ever, growing and never changing. A lichen that does nothing, achieves nothing, is worthless. It simply clings to a rock surviving just to survive. Humanity is like that lichen, pointless but with an overwhelming need to survive.
Today the human lichen is changing, but it is still worthless. We are becoming more and more selfish. We hoard assumed happiness for ourselves. Someday this selfishness will destroy our entire worthless race.
If God, or anyone, notices He might say, “A pity; they were such a good and loving invention. Nevertheless, it was a lovely funeral.”
Chapter 40: Farewell
I try to force myself not to cry. Everyone keeps telling me, “You have been so brave.”
I am tired of being brave. I am not brave, I am just afraid to be weak.
We take our seats. As the ritual inches along, I stare at the gravestones around me.
Two in particular catch my eye. The first says, “Credo certe ne cras(I believe with certainty that there is no tomorrow). The other says, “Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae.”(This is the place where death rejoices to teach those who live.)
It is time for the benediction. Jacob, somehow, has convinced my father to allow him to do the ceremony. Although he never knew my mother, for some reason it seemed right.
“Lord, we come with sorrow in our hearts. You have taken a wonderful and good woman from us. You tell us, “Blessed are they who mourn; for they will be comforted.”
“But what can comfort us at such a time Lord? Nothing, except Your gift of faith. Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we cannot see. Without faith we count down the days to death, with it we count up the days until happiness.”
“Give us faith that You now comfort this blessed woman in heaven. For You in Your wisdom have decided she has finished her appointed tasks on earth. She is gone, but she will live on with us. We live in deeds not years, in thoughts not days. In the end it is not the years in your life that count but the life in your years. This just woman, though she died early, shall be at rest, for the age that is honorable comes not with the passing of time nor can it be measured in years.”
“Let us now pray together.”
All bowed their heads and prayed, “We beseech thee O Lord, according to Thy loving kindness, have mercy upon the soul of Thy handmaiden, and now that she is set free from the defilements of the mortal flesh, restore her to her heritage of everlasting salvation. Eternal rest, grant unto her, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.”
Jacob concluded his prayer. I had most need of blessing, but “Amen” stuck in my throat.
It was time for others to speak. Jacob motioned me forward with his eyes. I faced the crowd and swallowed three times quickly.
“All I am and hope to be, I owe to my angel mother. I know that those we love never truly die. I know she is in heaven and will always remain with us. The only truly dead are those who have been forgotten. We will never forget you. Therefore, we all mourn greatly, but not as one without hope. Godspeed Ma.”
Chapter 41: Grief
Finally, the funeral was over. The spokesperson said, “The service has ended you are free to go.” With these ridiculous words, everyone began to depart.
I wandered off, alone, away from the street. I had not cried and I felt the tears pressing against my eyes. A few slipped down my cheeks unbidden. I wanted the release only tears can bring. I cannot stand the sight of people, I just want to die and it’s really hard to live this way. I cannot b
ear to have someone see me cry.
I walked quickly down the hill. Eventually a small stream at the edge of the graveyard prevented me from going further. A small sign marked the place as the “Leman River.”
By the waves of the Leman, I sat down and wept. Suffering overwhelmed me like a weeping child. Even though no one was near, I made no noise. I held my head in my hands and silently let my tears fall into the river.
The river was not clean, as it should be, when keeping corpses company. It bears empty bottles, napkins, condoms, cardboard boxes, cigarettes, and other testimony of summer nights. The river holds the cast off garbage of our lives the way the graveyard holds the garbage of our souls.
I heard footsteps behind me. I was afraid to turn around. I tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe away my tears. My eyes were forced to look through constant crying.
I had assumed it would be Jacob, but Mary was standing there. I tried to hide my face.
She sat down beside me and put her head on my shoulder. Without a word, she began to cry. With this, she showed she understood I wanted no empty words like, “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She smiled through her tears.
Mary’s smile taught me a lesson I should have learned a long time ago. I think I know now why people die; it is so the rest of us can realize how precious life really is. Without grief, happiness could not be so great. Sorrows come to stretch the dark spaces in the heart for joy.
Nothing in this world is absolute. In every sadness, there is a seed of joy. For every joy, there is a price to be paid. When you look at something you believe is perfect, you will never see its flaws. When you look at something you believe is flawed, you will never see its perfection. Death tells us that our time in this world, although filled with suffering, is beautiful. Life is never perfect because all things are imperfect. We achieve perfection only by recognizing our flaws and fighting to overcome them. Therefore, no smile is more beautiful than one that struggles through tears.
Chapter 42: Repentance
When we had both taken our fill of crying, we returned. We walked past my mother’s grave. “Goodbye, Mom, I love you,” I whispered and I hope somewhere she heard me.
Everyone was waiting for us. I could tell they all were wondering whether I was going to continue my journey with them. I had already decided to continue. I felt my mother would not want me to quit. Besides, I had even less to go back to now.
Simon broke off from the group and came to meet us. He intuitively knew that I did not want to talk about my mother or my grief. “Don’t worry about anything,” he said, “you don’t have to decide right now.”
“Thank you, Simon,” I said, “but I’m not leaving you. I belong here.” At this, Simon and Mary exchanged quick smiles. “Right now I just want to forget all about this.”
Mary looked perplexed but Simon nodded his head, “I think that’s a great idea, let’s go out and have some fun.”
“Simon are you insane,” Mary said and Simon’s smile disappeared.
“No, that’s just what I need,” I said surprising both of them.
“I’ll never understand you two,” Mary said shaking her head, “you show him a good time Simon but don’t let him get into any trouble.”
“Don’t worry,” Simon said, “we’ll repent for our sins later. But now, we sin, since sinning is the best part of repentance. Christ died for our sins. Dare we make his martyrdom meaningless?”
We spent all night rotating through the five clubs in the city. I was happy. I felt like I was receiving a small taste of the social life I missed out on in college. Finally, I got to have fun.
The whole night was a blur. Those of you who are normal probably would think it boring, but for me it was incredible. I finally experienced the empty existence that my generation calls living. We drink, party, and say we had fun. That is all.
With such empty happiness, my generation defines itself. We have no purpose or place. We are nothing but a shadow without a sun. Our souls are Styrofoam enclosing nothing. We cannot hope for long-term happiness, we must take what we can get, no matter how limited, no matter how high the cost. Our bleak lives are justified only by the powerful attempts we make to destroy ourselves. We drink. We party. We try to forget.
Our lives move too fast and we expect too much. We don’t have time for everything. We don’t have seasons enough to have a season for every purpose. We need to love and hate with the same heart, laugh and cry with the same eyes, torture ourselves to end our torture, and steal all we can from selfish life. We must live for death and die to live. We drink and party until we are unconscious. Then we forget. We say we had fun, but moments that should last forever slide unconsciously by like water. We have the experience, but we miss the meaning. That is all.
I think I lived more in that one night then I had in my life. All the years behind seemed a waste of breath, but all the years ahead full of limitless possibilities. I told myself “From now on, I will embrace life like this every day. Never again will I let something go unexperienced because of my fear.”
Chapter 43: Chance
I stayed in bed until noon. I would have slept all day if Mary hadn’t come.
“Rise and shine,” she said cheerfully pulling my blankets off. Her loud words crashed upon me as if an engine had been started under my skull, but I gladly endured the pain. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad,” she said. Then a serious look came over her, “Have you seen Simon?”
“No, the last time I saw him was about 3 last night. I rode back with John. Why?”
She shrugged, “I can’t find him anywhere, I’m worried.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said rolling over, “but I’ll help you look for him.”
“Thanks,” she chirped and ran out of the bus.
I asked around, no one had seen Simon. Now I began to get worried. I convinced John to drive the bus around so we could look for him. We checked all the clubs and then drove around aimlessly until we became frustrated.
When we returned, Simon was back. He was sitting by the fire with his head in his hands.
“What happened,” I asked Joel.
“You should have seen it,” Joel whispered, “Mary really let him have it.”
“For what?”
“Simon didn’t come back last night because he met a woman at one of the clubs.”
“Really,” I tried to say but Joel was talking so fast he doesn’t even hear me, “Aurora told Mary she had seen Simon with someone at the bar and Mary stalked off all angry. When Simon cam back, he knew she knew, so he admitted it right away.”
“Is Mary okay?”
“I don’t know, she kind of yelled at him, but she didn’t look mad; she looked hurt and misunderstood. Heaven has no rage like love turned to hatred.”
I ran to where I knew Jacob would be. He saw me coming and waived his hand, “I’ve heard, and yes she had been here, and no she isn’t here anymore.”
“What should I do?”
“That depends.”
“Is that all you are going to say? I love her. This could be the beginning of everything. This may be my only chance to make her understand I am better for her than Simon. Should I take it or will that hurt her too much? Give me some kind of advice.”
He looked at me solemnly, “We choose to love, we do not choose to stop loving.”
“Does that mean I should tell her or not? I can’t think, I can’t rely on myself.”
He stared at me, “Amor sinistra ut ante dextra sternuit approbationem.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“No one knows,” he said, “but it is the only answer I can give you.”
“Never mind,” I said, “I will decide when I find her.”
Chapter 44: Sunset
I find her sitting in pained silence watching the sunset. She senses my presence and turns around. Her eyes are red but her tears have pa
ssed.
“I knew you would come,” she says.
Her voice is slick with the taint of bitter sarcasm. Nevertheless, I go and sit next to her.
We do not touch. As much as I want to hold her, I am afraid because I do not know her desires.
“Don’t you think it’s rather funny, I should be in this position? I just don’t understand how he could do this,” she says. “I love him so much, didn’t he love me?”
“I believe he loved you,” I say.
“How can that be,” she says, “love is not supposed to change, otherwise it cannot be love. To know a thing well, you must know its limits. Only when pushed beyond its tolerances will its true nature be seen.”
I am silent.
“What’s wrong with me,” she says, “maybe I don’t deserve to be loved.”
“Yes you do,” I say taking her hand, “you are a wonderful person.”
“No, I’m not,” she says snatching her hand away and turning from me, “I’m worthless.”
I wait.
She looks at me again, now fighting tears, “Tell me one good thing about myself.” “You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” I say.
She laughs, “Maybe to someone like you.” She brushes back her tangled hair, “Am I beautiful now? What about 20 years from now? Beauty is a short lived tyranny, and it rules women most of all. Those most beautiful in youth are the ugliest when age has pressed them down. Now the beauty hides the ugliness within, but soon the ugliness will break out and destroy my beauty.”
“I wasn’t talking about how you look,” I say, “You are a kind, beautiful person on the inside.”
Now she comes to me and places her head on my shoulder, “What fools we are to let love destroy our lives. We try to protect ourselves but to love at all is to be vulnerable.” “Is that a bad thing?” I say. “Yes,” she says, “they ought to find out how to vaccinate for love for it is the worst disease on earth.” “I know,” I say, “but it is also the greatest cure. You cannot separate pain and love. They need each other.”
We sit, grown quiet at the name of love. We watch the last embers of daylight die. Thus departs the glory of the world leaving us in darkness. She gently throws her arms around my neck. My heart is hot within me and the sunset seems to whisper, “Remember tonight…for it is the beginning of always.” “Tomorrow,” I think, “do your worst, for I have lived today.” She leans towards me and we kiss.