Sweet serenity advocates my ability to understand that it is not held at our discretion to decide the whens, wheres, hows, and the whys. God’s plan neither needs nor has an explanation, we are given one ticket to enjoy this ride. I remember my childhood, the ghetto glory days I played in, and even now still wish I stayed in. However, in happiness the darker memories inherently fade in. I was nearly obliterated by the first loss of a loved one I ever experienced.
An impetus in my way of life today remains somewhat vague and selectively I reminisce about things. I was beneath adolescence, a child meeting the additions to my roots. Josh was my cousin, but more than anything else I quickly discovered that he was my friend. We laughed, ran, joked, talked, and shared poverty as well as commodity. We never looked to find fault in each other He was my brother.
An innocuous young fellow, his heart was one I believed to be golden: precious yet solid, and shimmering from his smile like the waves in the Atlantic Ocean under the moonlight. He was love, peace, and happiness all condensed in human form from what I observed. Thousands of miles away from me, he lived in a place that I wanted to be. Special occasions and brief vacations brought us within tangible distance and these were the only times we shared together. When he told me that he was sick I did not comprehend the severity of his illness; however, I’m sure he did. It still amazes me today that he managed to clench a perpetual joviality through what I would have thought to be an abominable curse.
First cancer came. Next, there were treatments to remove the cancer which weakened his heart condition. Angry at the situation, I recall saying to my mother sarcastically, “Isn’t it ironic that treatments are intended to help, but this particular one hindered him!” On the lengthy list of patients waiting for a donor; his untimely demise came due to irreversible damage ensued by the radiation treatments leading heart failure. I remember attending his funeral not knowing how to feel. It didn’t seem real to me until I looked over at him lying in that casket. Trying to listen to the benediction, but I could only hear my aunt as well several others who came to pay respects; I began to gently weep and wallow in such a sadness overwhelming to my soul.
I saw another side of myself that day, barely eleven years old, standing in the cemetery watching the pall bearers carry him in a coffin to his final resting place. With my mother at my side, again I cried and fought to restrain those tears, but could not manage to do so. I listened to the reverend speak the eulogy. As the ceremony came to a close, I tossed a rose. Today, I can sometimes still hear him laughing and turn to look over my shoulder only to see a child with bright eyes smiling to remind me of a friend and to exercise kindness in all of my works.
Like a humorless joke, the fact of what came to pass makes it rather difficult for me to smile. The only loss I have yet to experience, is not technically a loss. Although I may not be able to celebrate and enjoy time with him in the physical form, he walks and dances in my mind to balance out my burdens, and helps me to deal with the demons that approach me daily. Tragedy plays a role in every persons’ development. I am convinced that it is inevitable and the line of misery and sanity is so close to one another; consequently, to all who have been torn away from a loved one, I understand your grief.
For the mothers who have been unfortunately separated from their children, if I could repair the damage to your spirit I would do so in an instant, but since I am unable to do that, accept me taking you by the hand and walking down memory lane with you unbiased as you read these words. I am also touched and tender to such pain. Allow our tears to connect and blend to maybe envision a rainbow in the reflection of them under our feet; however intensely hard to progress forward, I’m applying all of my effort to see you through. Anyone regardless of race, gender, or religious preference, we all have conscience and feelings. I imagined after Josh passed that ending my life, abusing myself, or mistreating someone else would be a justifiable method of dealing with his death. I became solitary and depressed. With the aid of my mother and others who were able to identify that I was falling apart, evanescently I returned to a normal functioning adolescent. I am truly empathetic to anyone who has lost a loved one and to all who have long-suffering due to these circumstances, I am sending my condolences to you.
1) The author in the story, “Tears, Idle Tears” Elizabeth Bowen, Uses an in-direct method of presentation for Mrs. Dickinson, Her personality is mainly implicated through her speech throughout the story. Mrs. Dickinson is a very cruel, self centred lady; her main motivation in the story is to look good to all her friends or basically look good anywhere in general. She is the type of person that ...
In Loving Memory Of Josh
Written by: Deion Lee