Things In Life May Fade But Memory Never Will

He lay on his back gazing up at the stars and memory, that most beautiful and most agonizing of things conjured up the past in his minds eye as clearly as if the intervening years had vanished like mist before the sun.

His first memory, as a very small child, was of lying on the soft spring grass

staring upward in fascination as his father pointed out the constellations and recited their names. Tonight , even after the passing of so many years memory brought back his fathers deep soft voice, the sound of the crickets , the soft sighing of the wind in the neighbor's trees , as clearly as if he was once again that child at his fathers side.

He had wondered at times how much his love of astronomy was an inate part of his make- up and how much it had been absorbed from his father, but where ever it came from it became , as the years came and went, increasingly enthralling.

Memory once again rolled back the years and he saw himself on his tenth birthday. He had never had large festivities for his birthday. Just a family supper with his favorite dessert and generally a small but lovingly given gift from his parents. On his 7th birthday it had been a watch, on his 8th a second hand bicycle. But the year and gift that would always stand out in his memory was his 10th. On it his parents had given him a telescope. He had dreamt of having one but had been careful not to mention it too often to his parents because he knew that a telescope was expensive and times were hard, money scarce. And yet there it was , in all its glory.

That night he again went out into a warm summer night with his father and heard the soft deep voice, the wind , and the chirping of crickets. But in this second memory the thing that outshone and nearly overpowered all else was the wonder he felt when he looked through the lens for the first time and the stars came near and it seemed to his dazzled eyes that he could almost reach out his hand and touch them.

Then another memory, another night, another starlit sky, appeared in his minds eye, and again it was as clear as if time had vanished and the past was now. As it did so he felt again the pain, the agony of soul , the absolute desolation that had washed over him on that night that was writ so large and so indelably on memorys page.

Memory is an odd thing. One forgets what ones wishes to remember, remembers what one would give anything to forget. When one suffers a sudden shock the mind recoils from it and focuses on odd little details. Details that then remain engraved indelably on ones mind forever after.

So it was that as memory washed over him what he remembered most clearly was the color and texture of the curtain on the west window, the small green paint splotch on the sill, and the far off barking of a dog.

He had been inside when the phone rang. He had not answered it immediately, had rather hoped that it would not ring again and break the peace and tranquility of the afternoon. But it had rung, and realizing that it was futile to ignore it he had answered.

The voice had been very kind. The caller had broken the news as gently as he could but the facts were inescapable and shattering. His parents had gotten in their car and set out for town to run a few errands. Buy a few groceries for the birthday supper his mother was planning for him that night. They were just coming into town when it happened. A semi coming the other way hit a patch of ice, slid into the oncoming lane ,and met the little blue car head on. The result was catastrophic.

No, they hadn't suffered the kind voice had reassured him,death had been instantaneous. He had heard himself answer the caller in an odd stifled voice, seen with suprise that his hand was perfectly steady as he had laid down the phone, and then as the reality of what he had just heard hit him he had taken one staggering step to the nearest chair and sunk into it , his head falling forward onto his crossed arms, victim of the most overwhelming agony of soul he had ever endured. Day had fled, night come. His world in chaos , the waves of sorrow broke over his head and all was darkness and pain.

Grief and loss are universal. No one is exempt. But the fact that all alike suffer does not soften the pain of the bereaved. We were made for eternity not time and when time and death bar the way the human soul recoils, crys out against what is , and yearns for what ought to be. A land where there is no sickness, pain or dying. No funeral train. No new made graves on the sunny hillside.

And so, while reason told him that the death of his parents had been inevitable sooner or later, yet his soul cried out in the agony of loss.

The night after the funeral had been the worst. He had gone outside into yet another warm, starstrewn night. Had cast himself down on the grass and gazed upward. The night was the same, the stars in their place. Even the crickets chiped as before. And yet how great a change. For now he was alone. The beloved parental presence had gone never to return. The two on earth most dear to him were gone beyond recall and all that was left him was that most beautiful, and yet most painful of things. Memory.

As he lay once again in the grass staring upward memory enveloped him, drew him back, the present wavered and vanished. And then a sound nearby brought him back from the past into the present with an almost physical jolt and he looked up to see two figures coming toward him over the lawn. One was tall and slim, the other small and jaunty. A shrill childish voice called " Daddy, what are you doing? Are'nt the stars pretty? I want to look at them with you, may I?" And he, stepping from the past to the present and gazing into the future replied gently " Yes , Sonny boy. They are indeed beutiful. Come sit and your mother and I will tell you all their names." And as he spoke he reached out his hand to the two most dear to him in all the world.