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Sunday, February 13, 2005

That Invisible Sun

I am trying to write a condolence letter to a man who is a friend of my family. His brother was shot to death in what the police believe was a planned robbery. No one has been arrested yet, and perhaps no one ever will be. Trying to write this letter is ripping me up inside. I can't write anything meaningful to him without letting myself experience the bitter pain he must be in and empathizing with it.

I know this man. It's not that I have ever talked to him for very long at one time, but I have known him so long in the way that one does know neighbors in a small town. You know people the most through the long series of acts that reveal their basic character. I have seen the quiet kindnesses he has shown to other elderly neighbors and to my family. I have seen him fight battles to control his bad tendencies and express the best he has to give. He admired my father very much, and they were friends in the way that older men sometimes are with younger. I was the one who told him that my father was dead the morning after he died. Ever since he has looked out for my mother when none of us was with her.

It must be at least sixteen years ago that I met him and his new wife as we were voting in the firehouse. I remember so well his immense pride and happiness as he escorted her through the voting lines and introduced her to the old folks who had manned the voting stations for years. The marriage did not last; they divorced when he found out she was sleeping with another man. I was happy when I saw the bitterness of that slowly seeping away from him.

I was hopeful when he finally got courage enough to marry a second time, but that did not last either. I think his second wife developed mental problems. She succumbed to an absurd jealousy that seemed like it was veering into paranoia. Before the end she was following him around on the back roads, even when he went to visit his mother at the old farm. There are many unwise things this man might do, but sleeping around on his wife would not ever be one of them. She ought to have known that, because they had been together a long time before marrying. Sometimes we create our own demons and feed them as they gnaw at our entrails.

I find it hard to believe that he will ever marry again. When my brother's marriage broke up he spoke to him and offered help, all the help he had to give. They change, he said to my brother. They change after you marry. It's not you, it's her. Sometimes there's nothing you can do to help someone. Just wean yourself and her gradually away, don't feed the bitterness.

He is a few years older than I am and he has many lonely years left. I'm afraid that this will be the wound that will overcome him. Now he and the rest of his family must live with the knowledge that there is some one out there to whom his dear brother's life was nothing, only an obstacle to be eradicated for a trivial gain. What greater cause to mistrust human nature can there be? What must it be like to walk the streets looking into other people's faces and wondering if they are callous monsters?

I don't have the "intestinal fortitude" to write this letter. I don't have the strength to do it, but still it must be done. When someone is suffering so much one must acknowledge it and try to break through the isolation that grief brings. So I am going to go where I have gone so many times before for help, and that is to prayer. I am going to ask for the strength I don't have, the wisdom I don't have, and the courage I don't have for the sake of another, and I will get it. I have so many times before. I am going to beg that this man should not become yet another casualty of that inhumane robber who took his brother's life, and I am going to ask what I can do to prevent it.

Then I am going to rest not in an inner world insulated from this man's pain, but in the warmth of that invisible sun and the knowledge that he will find what he needs if he can seek it, and if he does not have the strength to seek it he will be given it. No request for help for another is ever refused, although that person may reject the help offered. We are free beings, tethered only to absolute reality by the depth of our care for each other. When we lose the courage to care we lose our ability to connect with the world and build walls against it. This man does care for others, and that can be his path out of suffering.

Sooner or later life maxes us all out. After that, we must choose whether to withdraw into our own little world or to continue on with the resources of others. The miracle is that we have an inexhaustible credit line on which we can draw for the benefit of others. Our worst failure is when we don't use it. It's tragic when we never learn this credit line exists.


Comments:
Superbly written, one of the best pieces I've ever seen on a blog. Thanks!
 
MoM, that really was beautiful. I think you have plenty in there to pick from in order to make an amazingly touching condolence note. Your heart is obviously pained by his loss, and I think he'd appreciate knowing that -- and knowing the affect he's had on you. Nothing will make his pain go away or even subside but knowing people care is a lasting gift.
 
By the way, you all will be in my prayers as well. What a horrible thing to have happen.
 
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
 
Hello,
You do not know me but I have heard so much about you from the man behind SCA...he just called me to suggest that I read your top post NOW. I am so glad that he did. You write with such heartfelt honesty and poignant remberance that I had to remind myself that I did not know this man but I certainly wish I had.

Thank you so very much for allowing me to glimpe at how a heart writes...and when it is yours it does so beautifully.
 
Thanks to all of you for your supportive comments. Esther, the prayers are much appreciated. You're right, nothing's going to dim the pain, but it is a question of how he fights the battle out.

Michele, nice to meet you. He is a good, very human man. You & the Triumvirate brightened my day with the 50 things posts. Make him put his back up.
 
I wish you luck with this letter. It will be difficult to write, and it will be all the more meaningful to the father because of it.
 
Your letter has made me cry, but my tears are not only for your dear friend, but for myself. You have helped me with your letter, and I know your friend will be helped, also. What a good and lovely friend you are. And your insight is amazing. I thank you for that letter, and I know your friend will thank you also.
 
I wish I had visited your site sooner. You are a superb talent, an you convey what you are thinking so beautifully. I wish you luck in writing this letter. Sometimes we are given much in life that seems impossible to bear, but it is these very spots where we are worn thin that our true light begins to shine through. It sounds as if you have seen that in this man. Perhaps you could find a way to convey that to him as you offer encouragement to him.
 
I don't know what else to type except to express my gratitude to you for writing this post. It is beautiful in ways and on levels that I do not completely know but am only aware of. Thank you.
 
MOM, this is wonderful. You have put words to beautiful, elusive truths and given us a glimpse of how lovely it is to be used by God in the service of others. I know you are blessed by this, even in your sorrow, and that your letter will be a gift to this man.

Anniebird
 
Dear Mama, I feel your heart in this post. It is beautifully written and certainly a "letter" in its own right. It is amazing when the heart begins to write because it takes on a different flavor, a different dimension.

I am so very sorry for this senseless loss and the grief and pain caused by it. My heart and prayers are with this man, his family and you.

Wishing you much strength and wisdom.
 
Mama, I am so sorry but I just now paid attention to the date on this when I went back to Siggy's site. At any rate, I am still so sorry this has happend. How is this gentleman doing?
 
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