"There's a song in every silence,
There's a dawn in every darkness,
From the past will come the future.
In the cold and snow of winter,
There's a spring that waits to be." (lines from hymn 703)
Our friends buried their son today. It was hard, very, very hard. Probably the hardest thing a parent is ever compelled to do. I tried to close my ears to the questioning mourners. I wanted only to move past the moment. I wanted to work on finding comfort and peace for them and myself. I wanted so much to be in next week. Some place, far far away. Suicide has a way of forcing questions. No one really wants to know the answers. Yet we question anyway. Why can't we just be glad we knew him, that our paths crossed however briefly? That he gave us joy.
At the reception afterwards I saw a once familiar face. She turned and our eyes met, narrowed slightly. Who is that? Yes? Maybe, I don't know. We began the usual, "Do I know you?" and yes we did. "What are you doing these days?" "Kayaking!" Really, me too. I just finished building a wood strip Guillemot!" "No way!" "You should try making one. I'll give you all the station forms, even the book. It's such fun making a kayak..." "But I've made two, Greenland SOF boats..." "Really?"...
I thought I was reaching an end of something in recent weeks. Maybe I'm not. There was talk of resurrection during the service. I'm not a religious person at all, but maybe I need to look more closely at the spring that waits to be!