Theology & Worldview

14 Days-Chapter 9

~Golden Gateways (September 28)~

[Start recording.]

[Camera pans shakily to a figure with dark curls splayed around her face and lavender glasses. She’s drowning in a black suit with tear stains smeared on the cuffs, and her fingers tap restlessly against her pant leg. After hobbling onto the podium, she tips the mic towards her.]

Hi there. My name’s Shpresa Sinani; I was Lai’s good friend, and uh, Grace asked me to say a few words.

I, um, always thought that leaving your words with the dead is like tucking a shard of your soul into their linens. It’s like being there, but letting go. Problem is, how do I tell you about all of Lai in a few minutes? How do I tell you about fourteen years of smile lines and tubes of half-used mint chapstick and laptops of almost-solved Wordle games and the way she insisted you pick the first Kool-Aid?

[she laughs nervously] Actually, I wasn’t supposed to start my eulogy like that. But I like this start better than the other 40 I came up with, so I’mma roll with it. Anyways, um, Grace already told you about Lai’s selflessness. Even when she was eight-years-old, she’d always split her raisin cookie with me and then give half of her slice to the pigeons. [Her eyes gloss over as her fingers tighten around the mic] But to me, one of the most wonderful parts of Lai was her vulnerability, her willingness to cut open her soul so that part of your heart could bleed into the open too. She was a beautiful burden and coaxed you into being a beautiful burden back, like two storm-tossed butterflies in group therapy sessions.

I’m gonna miss those meetings. I’m gonna miss every inch of Lai’s smile and every watt from her brilliant eyes. But, uh, even though she’s gone, she’s left us with a legacy of bruised hearts and kindness that can’t be stolen or shaken. Every pigeon outside of our elementary school and everyone she touched like sunlight can attest to that. [She slashes at her tears with her suit sleeve and mutters, “stupid eyes.”] I can attest to that.

Lai, thank you so much.
***
[Amanda’s grief journal]

“I liked the eulogy, recorded it all if you want it,” I offered to Shrep at the end of the service, once we’re both tucked under a blooming rose of sharon. Watery sunlight spilled through its leaves, and a few feet away, aunts, uncles, and strangers in ebony jackets and dresses mulled around the vase with Lai’s ashes. Humans are weird, aren’t they? As soon as someone’s escaped their fleshy cage, we stuff them back into a jar of clay for eternity.

In my pocket, the orb weighed more than all of my broken promises to Lai as its golden aura flickered.

Shrep shrugged. “Thanks, Amanda. I actually started writing it four weeks ago, I was that paranoid.” She laughed bitterly. “Somehow, though, all my words sounded like trash. I could never write anything that summed up Lai well enough or eloquently enough or just enough, enough. Even giving that eulogy— it felt like part of it was this dream of Lai that I only have now that she’s dead. She was beautiful but not perfect. But isn’t it kinda terrible talking about your best friend like that, especially when I love her so much? I guess grief is kinda stupid.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I’m so sorry. Tissue?”

She accepted and blew her nose violently. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course.” I glanced away, itching to wrap my arm around her shoulder, not sure if she’d judo-flip me for trying. The autumn breeze tossed the tree boughs and fiddled with Shrep’s dark curls. “Hey, do you want to go to Saint’s Pizza for lunch?”

Shrep eyed me in mild disdain. “Junk food?”

“—is pure goodness for the soul,” I finished.

Looking as if she already regretted her decision, Shrep shrugged, texted her parents for permission to go, then followed my lead as we slipped out from the rose of sharon and onto the sidewalk. As the autumn air slapped our faces, the orb’s pulsing quickened like our footfalls.

“Nice day, huh?” I offered. If only striking up a conversation didn’t feel so much like inching toward a lion’s den.

“Yeah. Perfect for a funeral,” Shrep mumbled, hacking into her sleeve.

An uncomfortable silence brewed before the weight of Lai’s orb in my pocket squeezed the words from my lips, and I blurted, “I’m sorry for not being there when I should have. I was scared and thought I could find a way on my own and I’m so, so sorry for causing you and Lai any pain.”

Shrep froze, her heartbreak replaced by a mask of fury, then grief. Curled into her too-large jacket, wrinkles lining her bloodshot eyes and cracked hands, she looked ancient. “I mean— I don’t know if I can forgive you in my heart. But I understand. I ran, too, for way too long before Lai confronted me at the very end. I know you miss her too.”

Heat built behind my eyes as relief flooded me, and I looked away. Finally, the weight of weeks spent searching for an orb Lai already possessed started to dissipate. Shrep hesitated, then looped her arm through mine as we walked. As our footsteps fell into sync, our grief wove over and around us, tying my thoughts to hers and her heart to mine. We walked past the bakery with Lai’s favorite cream puffs, past the mom-and-pop’s that gave us discounts for Kool-Aid, past the old elementary school, past the hospital where Lai died, past 14 years of intertwined lives, past 14 days of anguish and 14 more of mourning. With each year we passed, Shrep drew me an inch closer to her until I finally ventured an arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled the dear child to me. Tears dribbled down our chins, memories soaked the sidewalk beneath our feet, and in my pocket, the orb’s flickering settled into a steady glow.

By the time we reached the golden doorway of Saint’s Pizza, the orb’s brilliance had flared into the afternoon, and I knew I was forgiven.


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/morning-golden-sun-yellow-sun-city-1069218/

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