A black canvas, punctured by a thousands shards of light. The night sky is an unrivaled beauty and yet it also serves as an excellent metaphor for the grisly reality of grief.
A guiding star? A mentor in the emptiness? I’m not sure I have one I can single out. Certainly some have shone brighter than others. But the beauty is in the many. The wonder of a sky full of stars is that they’re very small (to our eyes at least), but there are lots of them. A little times a lot. That’s been part of my experience in this grief so far.
So many people have contributed to supporting me and my family through this night. And even the smallest offerings are deeply significant, because they all shine together in the one constellation of care. And each of those stars has been something of a mentor to me. They’ve each taught me something about the value of being small but genuine in times of chaos. I don’t need one big hero. I’ve needed a thousand little ones. Playing a bit part is wonderful.
Perhaps what I’ve valued most about this constellation, is how how their kindness has issued from their own sadness. Suse was no celebrity, but she attracted many friends. She had that rare quality of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world at that moment, and that no other use of her time could be more valuable there and then, regardless of who you were, or what rank and file you came from. She touched many people’s lives. The fact her funeral was attended by over a thousand people is a testimony to her charm. She loved, and she was loved. By a constellation of stars.
And the tears those stars have wept are displayed in the shower of support they’ve provided. And so they teach me. They have punctured my darkness with a thousand shards of light.
But, some stars have shone brighter than others. And usually they shine brighter because they burn with a much more intimate sense of loss. Her family. My family. Our best friends. We walk with each other in the dark. We bang our knees on hidden dangers and warn each other “look out for that”. We take courage from each other’s courage. We carry each others burdens. They’re my stars. They’re my people. No one really knows what to do; the brightest stars just be.
But sometimes, it’s the smallest stars which teach you the most, because childlike vulnerability is perhaps the best lesson we can all learn. And when your twelve year old daughter shares a note like this with you, you learn something very important about what matters most in life…
