#28 Your Star burned Brightly

How do we see the gesture, the mass, the gravity, of the one you love, now that we cannot look at them directly? How do we know the shape, the weight, the being, of the one you love, by what we see in you?

Ben, the world can know the shape of you in so many ways.

They can meet your family and know you grew up in a home filled with love, food, music and art. They can meet your father, the intellectual and the artist. They can meet your mother, the pragmatist and the architect. They can meet your sister, the nurturing new mother and the philosopher.

They can see the garden full of flowers and food. They can see the vintage kitchen, a production center for home baking and scratch meals. They can hear music playing, guests talking in the dining room, and they can see your home filled with art and books.

They can see your room and know you were smart – there is the computer that you built, the philosophy books you read.

They can see you were creative – there is the artwork you made, the photographs you took.

They can see you were musically talented – there are the cellos, the piano, the recordings of your chamber concerts.

They can see you were mechanical – there is the motorcycle you were rebuilding, the car you were fixing.

They can see you were handy with a hammer – there is the garden shed you built, the arbor, the trellises.

They can hear about all the other ways you helped your family – fixing the plumbing and the deck, solving everyone’s IT challenges, catching that mouse humanely (and releasing it miles away at Green Lake), always offering to bring the groceries up the 32 steps from the car to the kitchen…

And, they can learn what a loving person you were – the many ways you cared for your nanny who passed away four summers ago, your grandmother who passed away six weeks before you took your own life, and to every member of your family.

They can see that you brought beauty, intelligence, curiosity and kindness to this world. Without asking, they will now that your star burned brightly. And then, it burned out.

This is the garden shed Ben built for me when he was 18 years old under the supervision of his Uncle Michael (husband of my twin sister)