thou hast made him, for a while, a little lower than angels
Book of Hebrews- chapter 2
There is no single memory of a loved one who dies. There are always thousands. Many are frozen in time, glossy snapshots of dances and vacations and new cars. My aunt left behind so many images of this kind.
A teenage girl, all blowing hair and peasant blouse, twirling on the hood of her dad's car
- circa 1974.
A young bride, whose groom had hair longer than hers, with a halo of flowers
Cut off jeans, a 10,000 maniacs t-shirt, short hair and a huge backpack, half way across Canada,
--circa 1984 (now divorced,- "Notice the BIG smile" she always pointed out)
Reclined in a lounge chair with sunglasses, holding a cup of coffee, with strands of carefree hair in her face. A vacation shot from the Upper Peninsula
Dressed all in white, sitting in the lobby of the hospital. Half a smile with a goofy beret covering her shining head. One hand holding a big plastic cup with a bendy straw. "I wish you wouldn't " was all she said.
-- March 2003
She didn't believe in angels. But she wore a crucifix during the last month and left me a note saying it should go to me. I think that, like me, she was hoping she wouldn't need it. Hoping she could postpone the need for that kind of faith.