Gifts Beyond the Rainbow

Eighty eight days. What has happened in your life during  the past eighty eight days?  Most likely it has been routine and sprinkled with a few bursts of laughter and joy. Within the past eighty eight days my cousins have lost both their brother and mother. For them there was nothing routine about this time.  While working to suture one wound another one appeared.  This cut runs much deeper.  It goes through the bone and touches the soul. Why is it that some people have to face such loss and hardship while other don’t?  Maybe it just seems that way.  Maybe it is just a matter of time and we all have a turn living within overwhelming sorrow.

   As I entered the church to attend my aunts funeral a sweet and soulful version of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” was playing.  It was Aunt Sandy’s favorite song.  Funny, I hadn’t known that before, but now it makes perfect sense.  Although she faced physical pain, adversity and heartache in her life she always wore a smile.  Actually, it was her signature mark and with it she surely did light up the room. There is a saying that goes, “A smile is the light in the window of your soul”.  Through her smile Aunt Sandy, with gentle strength conveyed the prayer inscribed on her mass card. 

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…..

  Courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference”.

    Peppered among the tears and sadness of the day was an outpouring of pink.  There were pink roses upon the casket.  Her son, son-in-laws, grandsons and former husband wore pink neckties.  Pink jackets were donned by her daughters, sister, relatives and friends. All in honor of her love of the color.  Tradition says that funerals need to be dark, but why not celebrate the vibrancy of the person and what they brought to our life and to this earth. I loved that my cousins chose to honor their mother in this way.

   I imagine my cousins feel like they are staring in “Groundhog Day II”. Another day in this church to honor a deceased loved one. The same six pall bearers that escorted my Cousin Kevin’s casket into the church on a snowy February morning rolled the casket containing his mother into the church for her funeral today.  In the winter the pall bearers were called brother, son and nephew.  On this spring morning they are called son, and grandson.  It was an eerie and uncomfortable deja vu.  

  While sitting in this modern church made of marble, stone and glass I was transported back to a moment that occurred a little over twenty years ago in a small white clapboard and stained glass chapel in this same town.  On that day it too was a passing that gathered us together. The service was for my cousin Jack, the oldest son and brother of this family.  Much like today that day was one of sadness and palpable pain that was merely in its infancy.  It was during the sign of peace that I witnessed one of the kindest, unscripted and genuine moments of connectedness in my life. 

  Twenty years ago the family was seated in the first few pews of the chapel.  My uncle and his wife were seated on the left, my cousin’s their spouses and children in the middle and at the end of the pew, on the right side was Aunt Sandy.  The sign of peace had concluded, but before the priest continued with the service my uncle vacated his seat walked around the pew to my aunt and hugged her. He simply hugged her.  The gesture was pure.  It came from a place of broken heartedness and love. That is how this has family has navigated their way through the changing structure of familiarity, simply, by loving one another.

  During the service today once again my cousin Michael stood at the pulpit and shared his thoughts and feelings about a lost loved one.  With steadfast composure and eloquent grace he delivered a tribute to a loving Mother who held each of her children close to her heart.  The relationship with our Mother is like no other.  Think about it.  Each of us came into this world only after maturing from the safe confines of our mother’s womb. We spent every single second of those forty weeks together.  Mom provided our warmth, shelter, nutrition and safety.  We grew and thrived until it was time for us to meet. And when we did meet she continued to do much of the same. Maybe that is why the loss of a Mother is so great. What began inutero expands into a lifetime of knowing that she is the one person in this life that you can count on.  She hugs you when you need it.  She wipes away your tears. She champions you when no one else believes, and she holds your heart when it breaks the most. Ultimately when she leaves she takes that connected part of you along with her. 

  After the service my cousin Maureen hosted a luncheon.  As I was assembling my plate I heard my Uncle (who was just entering the service line) lightheartedly bellow:

 "You are already disobeying your Mother.  She said, your father doesn’t like a napkin at the table he likes a dish towel.”  This statement was true of my Uncle. He has always preferred a freshly laundered dish towel to a paper napkin with his meal.   

  Little did I know that he was recounting  a conversation that had occurred this past week when he called to check in on the mother of his children.  As he was on the phone with Maureen Aunt Sandy blurted out that thought about the dish towel.  Maybe it was a moment of clarity in the midst of confusion or maybe it was a momentary flashback to a family dinner many years before as she was instructing one of her daughters to set the dinner table.  Or maybe it was a few words of consciousness disguised to thank a man that she shared six children with, and buried two.    There is neither a line drawn in the sand nor in the heart. It is just a family in its various forms navigating their way through life together.

 Divorce does not have to be the death of a family; maybe it just extends its branches.  As my Uncle entered the buffet line he left the pink paper napkin behind and picked up the burnt orange dish towel.

   When I returned home I went out for a walk.  I needed to release the sadness of the day.  What better way than to spend it among the newly blossoming flowers and trees.  Of course as I walked I thought about the day, my cousins and their losses.  I recalled the symbolism of the white feather that my cousin Kevin shared and had given as a gift to my Mother on her seventieth birthday.  When you find one it means that a loved one in heaven is watching over you.  In all the years that I have walked this route I cannot recall finding a feather, but today I desperately wanted to. I needed to.

  The road I was walking along was rural. There are a smattering of homes that are lined with large trees and rock walls. The gully along the roadside is filled with the remnants of the fall leaves.  They are no longer the vibrant fall colors red, yellow and orange but are browned.  I was about a half hour into my journey when I noticed the quill of a feather poking from beneath the leaves.  The feather itself was large and brown.  I was disappointed the feather was brown, not white.  Actually, if it wasn’t for the quill the feather would have been unnoticeable.  It blended in with the leaves.  I traveled twenty five feet more and to my amazement there was another large brown feather.  I had never found one feather along this route and today I found two.  But again they were not the color I wanted.  

 

 

 Continuing my walk and enjoying the sunshine my disappointment turned into a smile. I was meant to find the brown feathers. They were a gift and a lesson sent from above.  Don’t fixate on what you think you want.  Accept the gifts that come your way.  The gifts that you receive may be larger and grander than you could have ever imagined.  I know this was sent from a woman who understood value and worth.  Not value in terms of possessions and monetary wealth, but that of love, kindness, support and smiles. She was the one who attended each grandchild’s sporting events and even had her own designated seat in the stands.  That is value.  That is what truly matters, being present for those that we love.

   I had been walking for almost two hours.  On my return along the road where I spotted the two brown feathers I broke the cardinal rule and walked with the flow of traffic rather than against it. I wanted to take another look at the feathers.  As I was approached the area I found what I had been seeking. At the edge of a driveway in the gravel, mud and debris was a white feather grayed from the elements. Obviously it was there when I walked past it today.  How many times had I walked past it these past several months and not seen it?  This formerly white, now grayish feather took my breath away.  It was from an angel above reminding me that just because we don’t see something or someone it doesn’t mean that they aren’t always with us.

   I had only taken a dozen or so steps before I spotted the first brown feather from earlier today, another twenty five feet further was the second and after five more there was a third!!!  I hadn’t seen it before. It was covered by a few twigs and blended in with the leaves. Tiny bumps of realization peppered my skin. I knew who sent these feathers and who they were intended for. They were gifts sent to comfort a broken hearted family.

 

  And just in case I didn’t get the message it was displayed on the mailbox belonging to home that owned this frontage.  The name read SAJDUK.  How many last names do you know that have the letters “S”, “J” and “K” in them and in that order, Sandy, Jack and Kevin. What are the odds that the three brown feathers would be found here?

 

    I was almost home and Judy Garland’s rendition of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” was playing in my mind.  The lyrics are enchanting.

"Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
High above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?"

  This song is from the classic movie the “Wizard of Oz”.  Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin man and the Lion are all searching for something…..a home, a brain, a heart and some courage.  After their journey they realized that all that they were seeking had always resided within.  

  To my cousins, their spouses and children know that there is a woman now residing on the other side of the rainbow within the blue skies who will do her best to make sure that all of your dreams really do come true.

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