A Lantern to Remember Revised

On Mother’s Day,

My children, husband, and I

Gathered in a nearby field

My dad, sisters, brother, and their families

Commemorated in two other locations

One by one we lit

Each fragile Chinese lantern

To remember our mom

And our children’s grandma.

A loving mom and kind grandma who

Six months earlier left this earthly life

Multiple Sclerosis had taken its toll

15 years she battled this disease,

The last three years were most difficult

My mom who loved to walk

Forced to use a wheelchair

My creative mom who used to paint

Lost her fine motor control use of her hands

My independent mom

Constantly depended on family for basic help

My happy, easy-going mom

Fought depression, forgetfulness, and pain.

The tall, cylindrical, white paper lanterns

With the fuel covered square connected

To the bottom by a metal ring base

Were held upside down while

We lit the square

Then, carefully we turned it over

Right side up while

The gas filled the lantern

After watching my children participate,

I held onto the base of the last lantern

I held it tight

I didn’t want to let go

The lantern could not be contained

And soon it was pulling away

Wanting to be released

And soar into the sky.

Free at last

Into the night sky

Higher and higher the flame propelled it

We stood there watching

The lantern strong and secure

The bright flame lit the entire shape

Causing it to climb higher and higher

 Until we could only see a speck of light

Though others might not have recognized

What lit up the sky

We were mesmerized watching

To see how long the light would hold

And then the flame began to flicker

Poof, the light went out

My lantern had lasted as long as it could

We hoped it could travel all the way to heaven,

But it went at least several miles

Beyond where we stood

The lanterns were beautiful and memorable

But sadly, we wished we didn’t have to say good-bye

Bye Grandma

I Love You

You are the best!

Were the words of my eight year-old son

As the last lantern flickered high in the night sky

To his words, I add:  Dear Mom and Grandma,

We held on tight

For we didn’t want to let go

But Heavenly Father said the time is now

And released you from your earthly life

Away your spirit was carried.

Free from your body’s inability to work

Free from your cloudy mind and depressed heart

To our loving Heavenly Father you returned

On earth, we look up

Wishing you could still be here

Remembering how much you meant to us

Though we can’t see your spirit

We know your light still shines

You lasted as long as you could

Beautiful and memorable, we celebrate your life

Sadly, we said good-bye

But gladly, we know one day

We will see you again.

Bye Mom

I Love You

You are the best!

To Know the Story of the Man on the Train

The man on the train sat quietly looking forward. He dressed in a long, colorful robe that reached his ankles. The robe itself an intricate piece of work with varying patterns and textures.  His leather hat included a foot-long feather standing straight up. A chain wrapped around the hat and a metal outline of a butterfly hung along the back of the hat. His beard was long, gray, and shaggy and reached even further down than the feather reached above the hat. Around his wrist was an orange, brown, and tan knitted bracelet about three inches in width. He carried multiple items draped around his neck, including a couple knitted bags, one that was pink and blue, and a knitted green scarf. Blue pajama pants with some animal or object peaked out from under the robe when he stood up. Hanging by a rope was a brass horn that jangled as he moved. He carried with him a portable camping stool which he unfolded and set it next to him. He never spoke, but then rarely do passengers on the train speak to each other.

The man on the train exited before I did. As soon as he left, I heard behind me the chatter and laughter of some teenage girls. “Did you see that man?!” “Can you believe what he was wearing?” “Where did he go?” “I hope this train moves quickly, so we can see him again?” “Oh look, there he is on the corner!”

Mockingly, the girls judged the man, but I had been the silent observer full of questions that shall linger for I will probably never see him again. Though on the train near him for only a short ride, he caused me to step outside of my concerns, away from judgment and simply wonder what life is like for someone so different from myself, yet who breathes the same air and rides the same train. My curiosity switched to high gear as I observed the other silent train riders--to the young man with disheveled hair holding his bike, to the tall, African American teenager in front of me with long shorts and headphones in his ear, to the man with the camping backpack on his back complete with sleeping pad. “Did the backpack contain his entire world’s possessions?” I wondered.

Who were all these silent individuals on the train? Where were they each going? What was their story?

Did the man on the train know where he was going? Who was he and why did he dress the way he did? He stood out in the sea of faces and brought glances and stares his way. He wasn’t trying to blend in, for clearly he would be noticed wherever he went, but did he feel like he belonged? What was his story? Did he feel others laughing and mocking his attire? Was he alone or did he have family to return home to? Did he care or was he oblivious to what others thought about him? I shall never know the rest of this stranger’s story, but oh, how the silent observer in me that day wanted to know more about the man on the train. Alone in the world, yet surrounded by people. Hopefully, I prayed, that wasn’t how he experienced his days and his nights with no one to tell his stories to.

Who was this silent man on the train? Where was he going? What was his story?