The following article shows the enduring core values that a thriver can choose to manifest at the death of the perpetrator.
In memory of my father.
Dr. Leon XXXXX
Dead at the age of 91.
He had a beautiful funeral. One and one half hours of tribute. Many dignitaries gathered to pay homage. The musical extravaganza was outstanding; much of it performed by his progeny.
His family paced slowly up the aisle, following his coffin, to the slow measured beat of timpani and the other worldly sounds of varied instruments and voices from the choir, whispering “I AM”, floating through the air above those gathered in show of mourning.
One close family member did not process, did not sit in show in the front pews, but sat quietly, unnoticed in a back pew.
He died estranged from his youngest child and his three youngest grandchildren. Leon had not seen them for more than 10 years. Leon did not know when he died that his youngest daughter still loved him. He did not know that at any point he could have chosen to walk the fine line of fire, be honest, and become a real person.
When Leon died, his eyes slowly opened wide. He saw clearly that which he had never grasped in life.
Leon dead was met with love on all sides. Leon was met with a God who said, “This is what I did for you. You rejected me. And again I offered my love and forgiveness. And again. And again. At any time it was there for you to grasp and make it yours.”
Leon met his mother who had tears in her eyes. “Leone”, she said, trembling, putting out her gnarled hand to her much beloved son. “Leone. You were my son. I could not protect you from your father, but you were greatly loved, Leone.” Leon met his oldest sister Edna. “Leone, I was always so proud of you and what you accomplished. I helped you in any way I could.”
Leon looked around and saw the eyes of many people from throughout his life. He saw many of their hands stretched out to him. Adult hands. Uncountable little children hands. Hands that he had damaged and that now were healed. Hands full of love directed towards him, recognizing the humanity in him, buried deep under layers and layers of coldness, callousness, sadism, piercing cruelty, and refusal to recognize anything human in others. These people had moved on beyond the grievous harms he had done them. The immense injuries were no longer important, no longer the central facets around which lives were built.
Leon looked. There was no way to take advantage of these people. There was no way to gain the upper hand and control them. There was no way to have a secret; to have a secret life.
A dull pain started inside of him. Confusion. Twisting.
He had thought his vision of life was vastly superior, but he could now see through everyone, just as they could see through him. He could see character and choices other people had made. And his vision had been wrong, wrong, wrong.
He saw how things fit together. He saw how healthy life worked, to benefit everything which it touched, magnifying endlessly glorious joy.
And he saw that what he thought of as his magnificent cleverness was actually a dark stain, inhibiting growth, warping lives, breaking beautifully colored threads in the tapestry of life, as it spread from wherever he placed his attention.
“At least”, he thought, “Though I now see how ugly my work is, it IS mine and I did alter things significantly. I had tremendous power.”
And as he watched, the brightness lapped at the edges of the dark blot spreading outward from he stood. The shining light slowly nibbled away at the blackness, making tremendous inroads over here, pushing back the boundaries over there.
Soon there was nothing left of the dark stain except for an area immediately surrounding Leon. Like a corrosive acid, it had become undiluted around him, eaten through the fabric, and Leon fell through to the underside.
As he tumbled, all he had to do was reach out, take hold of any of the many hands extended to him in love and understanding. Touch the burning bright healing hand of God through those offered to him.
All he had to do was look at what he had been given and what he had done with it.
Did he?
The love was/is there, waiting for his acceptance.
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