I want to share a little story. I had the honor of knowing Beryle Howerton for only a few short months. He was one of the very first adults to love me just the way I was and encourage me to be just the way I was, which, frankly, was a smart ass. I loved him. I felt loved by him. He never sized me up, or kept me at a distance. I was his legacy the moment his son married my mom, I and knew he counted me as such. And I loved him for it. My affection for him was one of those things that just went very deep very fast. It hasn't happened often for me. Really.
My freshman year of high school, he died of a stroke. It was sudden and shocking. I was shocked. I so looked forward to getting to know him more. I am finding it hard to relay this, but I was very moved by his death considering I had met him only 4-5 times.
I was part of the marching band, and the clarinet players were all piled into the bus waiting to go to whatever football field the game would be at. I stood up to make an announcement. With a small timid voice, I told everyone that my mentor has passed and that I would like to dedicate this show to him, to honor him. The few friends I had already made agreed with sympathy in their eyes. One girl, however, made fun of me. She said something about being tired of hearing about my grandpa and me needing to get over it. Something like that. It cut all the way through me. I was suddenly aware of my dramatic need to validate his life and our relationship, to show everyone that I cared for him, and I was ashamed of it now. I sat down with my heart on fire and in my throat. My eyes stung, and I wondered what was even wrong with me that I felt the need to make such a request of practical strangers.
I wonder now if that rude girl had ever experienced a loved one lost? I also now remember the stoic look of another girl who never took any shit and was quick to dress you down. She nodded that she would, indeed, honor Beryle that night, or fancy the whim of a silly freshman. I wonder who she might have been missing that night. I think, now, my request was a little silly, expecting everyone else to care on the same level that I did. However, I think it was kind of brave, sharing my grief like that. Since then, it's been very hard for me to grieve, but I've been learning how. I just wonder how that rude remark might have affected me.
"Your pain is stupid and it makes the rest of us uncomfortable"
"No one cares about what you care about"
I dont know, really. This was just on my mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment