Jilly D.

No words.

In Grief on February 8, 2013 at 3:46 am

No words.

A silent vigil inside the Methodist church tonight in Trumansburg. Up and down Main Street, cars are parked for blocks on both sides and it’s a school night. Car doors slam and feet shuffle in winter boots, but no one is talking. They walk towards the lit up church steeple. At the main door stands a bicycle with a basket. Quietly people enter and walk up the stairs.

The altar covered in candles, the sanctuary dark and still. Each person picks up a candle and holds the light of Collin’s spirit in their hands.

The pews fill. So many candles. And it grows darker still.

Together and yet so alone with our sadness. I hear others sniffling and sobbing, stifling the wails of grief shouting from the inside. The woman in front of me got down on her knees and silently wept as she bent her head in prayer. Inside I’m screaming: no. This can’t be so.

There are no words. Only tears. Wet, salty tears. A silent faucet of compassion from an entire community. People came, they left, more people came, others left. No words.

Help. Please. Thank you. These pleas to a larger power are nothing but noisy chatter in our monkey minds. Mercy, Grace, and Gratitude went unspoken as the solemn petition in the community of Trumansburg tonight.  And I argued with God again, like that ever makes a difference. God, they tell me, always forgives, but I have a hard time forgiving God sometimes. This was one of those times.

No words.

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  1. Thank you, Jill, for voicing what cannot be said or hoped for or raged against. I feel the helplessness of humans,
    Elaine

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