It has been 2 months since my last post. That time was spent rethinking where I want to take my talents with the written word. I suppose I still do not know what, if anything, I want to say. But I did finally decide that I want to share this with whomever would read it.
2 months ago I sat in a sea of black suits and dresses fighting with my self to accept reality for what it is. And as we all sat in silence, listening to the eloquent eulogy, I came to understand it was not silence that had washed over us all. It was a uniform understanding that we are all undeniably mortal. That we have all grown since we were last together. Started our lives, our families, our careers... our stories. And that is what we all suddenly understood. This young woman, this bright star who had chosen to follow her dream of singing, had chosen how her story would be written and it was indeed a beautiful fairy tale... and then it ended and it was, no matter how she may have wished it to be recorded, now in stone.
I worked my coat under the unbearable heat and took a moment to finally allow myself to search the faces around me. Old friends, acquaintances, past lovers and even those with whom I was less than cordial. We all sat there now, together one more time, and not a word was spoken between us. For years we were the great Titans that shaped our generation and now life had washed over us all and what once was, was no more. What would be, is. And what will be, has yet to be decided. Beside me sat an ex lover with whom I at one time was so certain I would spend my life with that the idea of it coming to end seemed unfeasible. And yet she had followed her path to Paris where she would become a model for some designer or another and I stayed here and built my empire. But there she was now, looking right back at me, and her eyes did nothing to betray the shared curiosity between us.
What would our story have been? Were we wrong to record the words "The End" all those years ago or was that tale still to be written? She placed a delicate hand over mine and let her head fall to my shoulder, and I could only close my eyes and accept that what we do is already recorded in stone. There is absolutely no chance of making amends for what we have done. There is absolutely no way to go back and offer a hand instead of simply walking by. I do not think many of us like to think that we can change the past, or even have the desire to. I certainly do not. But I do believe that somewhere inside of us all is the belief that what have done or said does not define us now any more than the thoughts and emotions that never see light.
And yet it does. Or it will. We are all absolutely mortal, and what we did and do now is all that will be remembered. No one will know that this young woman wanted to be an actor, only that she was a vocalist. No one will know that she wanted nothing more than to tell her ex fiance that she still loved him, only that she left him.
And then it was my turn to speak, as I so often do at funerals for friends and loved ones. And while I am always able to grant myself some measure of impartiality, some measure of a wall between myself and my emotions, I was not allowed such luxuries this day as the afternoon began to fall into evening. I gently pushed her head from my shoulders, squeezed her hand and moved for the podium. I had written words to address the somber air that had fallen over the family, but I left them in my coat pocket as I stood and simply watched the people before me for a moment. I pushed the red button on my recorder and the words came before my mind was able to edit them. They were what I felt, and for the first time in a long time, they were not tailored to fit any certain crowd or event. They danced through my mind and fell from my tongue.
"I am a man who expresses intricate design and emotion through words daily, if not hourly. Certainly, finding the right words for the right moment is not something I often struggle with and yet, here... now.... I have none. There is nothing I can say that will be perceived as anything but hollow and cliche to you, her family and friends. Someone you loved, we loved, is gone and they are not coming back. We will miss them. Dearly. Painfully. But we are alive, and we will always remember her story. We will remember the profound emotion she could instill with the humming of a few bars. The beautiful smile that was nothing if not contagious. The fierce loyalty she gave to those she loved... whether she would express it or not.
I was granted the honor of hearing voice trace the melodies of the music she loved most and I know that now it does not feel as if you will ever know anything but pain... but I cannot believe that something so beautiful, so pure, could be anything but loved by God. She is with him now. She is where you, her family, want her to be. And though this is far from my most eloquent or imbued address... it is my most honest. There has been no time in my life that I have been more aware of those around me. gave me that gift. And as I look out over your faces I see tears, and hurt, and pain... but I also see that gift as you look to those beside you and nod softly. will be with you always in the gift that she has given us all. Almost as if even a simple breeze shared with a loved one is a whispered reminder to never... for as long as you live... forget the ones you love.
Had I the strength to give you all the peace you are searching for I would offer it freely. But I do not. And so I can only hope that you know is where her voice belongs. With the Angels. And she will not be forgotten."
