Aidan died on the last day of winter, the day before the first day of spring. It was almost as if he was reassuring us that, with time, our grief would pass, the darkness would yield to light, we would find joy in life again. The days are longer now, even if it is likely to snow today here in Western Massachusetts, and we are finding our way. Laughter is possible.
The summer is taking shape: we will all likely take a trip to China in June; Maggie will be in her acting class in July; Maureen may still run her Backyard Club for various and sundry kids a few days a week; I will teach a summer class; we may visit old friends in Washington DC in August; and three tickets to a Yankees game during the last week of summer vacation sit in my bureau drawer. With all of these things, we build our life after our loss, a life that still includes Aidan in our hearts and understandings.
Last night held another, more mundane, reminder of the inevitable turning of the seasons: the Yankees played their first game of the year. I watched for several innings and was comforted by the routines of the game: the hitters each taking their characteristic stances at the plate - Matsui's quiet, upright pose, right elbow jerking before the pitch; Sheffield's nervous twitching of the bat and the patter of his feet; the pitchers going through their carefully controlled motions; the fielders gliding on the grass or scooping about in the dirt. It was all very familiar, all very customary.
And the fact that the Yankees won 15-2 helped keep things happy.
I wear a Yankees cap most days (not today: the threat of rain-snow impelled me to something sturdier for my head). It is old and worn, and is emblazoned with a glitter-glue AIDAN on the bill. I have been wearing it for years. I have worn it to Yankee stadium; I have worn it in the lion's den of Boston. I will wear it many days to my classes. In the past some would ask "who's Aidan?" Although most who know will now avoid that question, should it come up, I will answer in the same way: "He is my son." I will keep it in the present tense because, even as his season has passed, he persists in the continual unfolding of all seasons.
The master came in time with his own season and then followed it away. If you're at peace with such seasons, if you're at home following them, then sorrow and joy can never touch you.
- Chuang Tzu (42)
Thank you for bringing up the present tense. It is a wonderful fact, how correct it is to use it in this context.
Posted by: Mike E | April 05, 2006 at 03:38 PM