While gusts of wind pressure moments of calm after this mild winter’s major mid-March Nor’Easter, my eyes fix on the tangerine flames that seek to warm me from the fire. This silence brings me back to the 70s as my bookmark rests on the last few chapters of the book I’m reading. This memoir, “I Refuse to Kill” fascinates me with suggested solutions for my own past of mystery and questions unanswered.
“Feeling fire and rain,,tonight snow. Friendless, lonely times never realizing any yesterday may have been the last.” Lines of that Sweet Baby James Taylor song drift through my mind as I prepare for this week’s funeral Mass. I will sit in the shadows, in the final church pews, present to pay the respect I’ve always maintained. They may not recognize me, or even know I’m there. Yet, I understand. Life gets in the way and everyone gets…”busy.” And people forget.
But in the stillness of warm rooms on cold March nights, I feel the presence of the many who seek to remember and permit hearts to recognize the Love that, once it is felt, can never be lost.
