"I woke up this morning and heard the news,
I know the pain of a heartbreak.
I don't have answers and neither do you,
I know the pain of a heartbreak."
- "When a Heart Breaks," Ben Rector
I have been silent this week, friends, but that doesn't mean I haven't been writing. I have been using my other (secret) outlet as a coping mechanism. Yes, I have been writing poetry. Today was the funeral of our dear Sister Marie Albert, and so, I feel it is the time to share one of my poems with you, that I wrote in her honor.
The Remnant of a Sniff
it's what lingers after
a sledding adventure in
the brisk, snow-filled air.
it lingers over hot cocoa
even as we try to warm ourselves.
it's what lingers after
the common cold or flu
has paid a visit to the body's
immune system.
it lingers over the tea
we drink to regain our sense of smell.
it's what lingers after
an allergy attack in the
awakening of Spring.
it lingers over afternoon coffee.
it's what lingers after
hearing the joyous news of a birth
or
the heartbreaking news of a sudden passing.
it lingers as hugs and tears are shared.
it lingers after my weeping
and
my mourning.
it lingers now.
but what lingers also,
is the remnant of a smile
as memories of you
flood my heart.
- 1/21/13
It's snowing right now, and if I have never said it, snow is a sign from Heaven for me. I take snow as a sign that all is right in my world. It snowed the first day I ever mentioned my discernment to Sister David and I knew it was my path of life. It snowed on a day I was walking to the Motherhouse for Mass on a Chapter weekend and I knew I was meant to be there. It snows today, and I know Sister Marie Albert is at peace. This is her sign for me.
Yesterday may have been one of the longest days in my life. Sixteen straight hours of being awake and not a signal break in the day. I went from 5-11 full force. In the middle of my day, around 3:30, my best friend, Cameron, and I walked down the street to Camilla where we were finally going to get our closure. But before we even walked down the street, I said, "Just a fair-warning: this is not okay in my heart yet; I am going to cry. I'm sorry." And just as he does for me, he nodded in silent agreement that he not only understood, but may have to do the same. That's the one thing about him that I love, we can have conversations upon conversations of full understanding with each other without saying a word. God blessed me in that sense.
We walked into the front doors of Camilla and right away we saw some of our sisters from school. There were shared smiles and waves and that was it really, until Sister Denise came up to my side. It was as if she had known I walked through the door; like magnets connecting with great force. She linked my arm and said, "Be strong, baby girl, we're just going to talk to her." Before we even entered the parlor, however, Sister Carol opened her arms wide and greeted me with a, "My hall buddy. I am so glad you are here with us." Of course, already, tears were silently streaming down my face. Sister Denise once again linked my arm, but I honestly admitted that I would need to hold her hand and I asked her not to let go. Cameron followed behind me, close enough to be there if I needed him, but far away enough to give me space to cry. I closed my eyes and did just what Sister told me, I spoke to my sister.
I got through the rest of the night, my six hours of classes with an angel by my side. Truly, I knew she was with me. When I finally was able to collapse in my bed, I let the river pour. But even then, it was still just a river. This morning, I moved around so slowly, as if trying to avoid the inevitable. Finally, I pulled myself together and trekked down to Camilla once again, in my black and yellow, but this time alone. I prayed and talked with her during my ten minute walk and told her honestly how hard it really was for me. Thankfully, when I walked into Camilla, I saw "little poss," or as many know her, Christina, the Postulant. I sidled up next to her, and listened as the IHM community prayed the Rosary, with Sister Lorraine, the Mother General leading. To a few of the school sisters I saw during the final good-bye, I gave hugs, even to the cold-ridden ones, like Sister Marcille and then made my way to Chapel.
I don't think my cheeks were ever as wet, even in the rain, as they were today. When I saw each of the sisters from school, line up on either side of the main aisle, I couldn't hold back the tears. Honestly, the hardest thing for me, was not only carrying the heartbreak of my own heart, but the heartbreak of the sisters. They created a passage-way of sorts for their sister. It was so difficult to watch their faces and not feel their pain. Yeah, it was hard.
It wasn't toward the end of the Mass that I realized which sisters were sitting behind me a few pews. Part of the council and a good deal of the motherhouse sisters. So, it was no surprise to me when I walked into the Portress office for work tonight, to have the sisters ask me about it. What I was surprised about was the amount of support they each gave me. Plenty of beautiful words were said, but what stuck with me was what Sister Rita (my home girl, I call her, since she's from Levittown) said. She said, "Becky, dear, she's going to be your special friend up there. I can promise that. Pray to her all the time, she's got you special under her wing."
The surprising thing about that saying, was that as I stood with Sister Marcille and a few of the students, I felt a peace come over me. Of course, tears were still streaming down my face, but I could feel her presence with me. I closed my eyes and just let that peace come over me with the gentle breeze that came with it. The sisters began to sing the Salve Regina, and you know that feeling in your heart, when even if you can't sing, you have to sing? That's what came over me. I joined in with the sisters who were literally surrounding me and sang as if that song has always been engraved deep in my heart. Afterwards, I heard Sister Marcille whisper to Dara, "That's a community tradition." Oops. Yet, I know Sister Marie Albert would have just laughed at me in her kind way.
As I walked home tonight from work, after listening to so many of the sisters at the Motherhouse wrap me in words of support, I couldn't help but smile up at the sky. It's clear tonight, despite the snow. I couldn't really tell if it was snowing or not, but when I looked into the lights that lit my journey home, I could see the fine pieces of icey snow falling so gracefully. I felt as if someone was literally dumping a bottle of fine, silver glitter on my head as if to make me shine. Then I realized it. Sister Marie Albert always told me to shine. And wouldn't she be the one to dump a bottle of glittery snow on my head from Heaven tonight.
Hey girl, I know you're listening, so let me tell you, how much I really appreciate your loving support during these beautiful times I knew you. And honestly, I know you're with me more now than you ever could have been here. Help me keep shining with a smile in remembrance of you!
No comments:
Post a Comment