“your story really touched me”

One of my friends from high school sent me this on Facebook in response to my post about Tommy. I asked for and received her permission to repost this here:

October 1

I just wanted to send you a note to let you know the story of your brother really touched me.

I understand how painful this type of anniversary can be. I lost my Dad 23 years ago this November. Some years are not so bad and others really just suck.

I don’t have any brothers or sisters so I can’t completely understand how you feel but I wanted to share this with you. Kahlil Gibran’s poem on Joy and Sorrow really helped me through some very bad times and still does.

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

Kelly

thirty years ago this morning

Early in the morning, not much before ten, if I’m remembering right. I was sitting in band class – individual because we were rehearsing for fall competition – when the school secretary came to tell me to get my things and come to the office because I was going home. No explanations. I had to put my clarinet away and go back to my six grade classroom to pick up my book bag and homework. I thought perhaps the secretary had told Mrs Craig that I was leaving and didn’t think of telling her myself; I just gathered up my things and went to the office like I was told. Expecting Mommy there, I was shocked when I went around the corner and saw Carolyn Peace; my next thought was that something had happened to Mommy, and nobody was telling me.

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