finding beauty
Have you ever found something "beautiful" in a highly unexpected place? For example, have you ever taken a pair of pants out of the closet and found $20.00 in the pocket? While that hasn't happened to me lately, finding $20 is a beautiful thing. However, it's been an interesting week of finding beauty in the most unexpected spots.
My friend Ron's wake was Tuesday. I sat with my family in that room watching friends and family greet each other, grieving their collective loss. No, this is not a joyous time. When a good person leaves this life, it's sad...even knowing that person is most assuredly on his way to his reward. But it is also a beautiful time in life.
In death, we see a finality and an eternity...a beautiful paradox we describe as the mystery of faith. We also see the coming together of a network of people. This is for the purpose of celebrating the beauty of a life well lived. And we see the grief of a family and that network of people...the beauty of love. Beauty does not have to be the picture of the hottest model on the runway, or the sexiest guy in the movies. Beauty is a manifestation of emotion and closeness that comes when a traumatic event (happy, sad or otherwise) comes to fruition.
I saw, during my friend's grave site service on Wednesday, a beautiful contemplation of the circle of life. While he was returned to the Earth, I noticed the picturesque surroundings of his final place; the quietness that hung in the air and the bright sunshine we were blessed with that day. It was as if God was saying, "good work, my son. I'll bless those who loved you with a beautiful day with which to remember you." I was struck by the shade of blue in the sky, the heat and humidity that accompanied this early, summer day and the deep greens of the trees that lined the cemetery. The vividness of those hues stayed with me as I walked away from the site...and the level of humidity was memorable. But the day was beautiful...and we were thankful it wasn't pouring rain.
The interesting dichotomy that took place that day became evident in the late afternoon. Unfortunately, I had to work as Rocky at a museum in West Hartford. And in doing so, I had to put aside my sorrow and make hundreds of little ones as happy as I could. Therefore, the pictures, autographs, hugs and handpounds had to be the ones Rocky would normally come up with...had he not been to a funeral that morning.
The beauty in all of this is how my mood was lifted by all those little children, who were just happy to see Rocky. The hugs, for some reason, were sweeter and the pictures and autographs were seemingly more appreciated. While it was only a two hour appearance, I was struck by the beauty of the innocence of a small child's thrill at seeing a big, furry Rock Cat autograph his new t-shirt or water bottle. Awestruck by the one child who said, "Rocky, I've been waiting to see you all day! Will you be my friend," I interacted with this one little girl for a few moments, then quietly excused myself to my dressing room...where I cried. Innocence is beauty...childhood innocence is ultimate beauty. Childhood innocence displayed to an adult who has had a really bad week is God's gift...as if to say, "Keep going, son. This too will pass."
We got back to work last night, with me bowling a 342 against a pretty good team. This after a 392 the week prior. Using the prevailing word in this theme, it was a beautiful thing to see the house back in action after such a tough week. It's the way Ron would have wanted things...all those people really enjoying what he provided, a beautifully clean and enjoyable place to bowl. We shared some memories, looked at the pictures one more time, looked at the "in memory of" sign over the right side of the center...and we bowled.
He's not gone. He's just gone on to a more beautiful place. Let's just hope they haven't juiced up the lanes when he gets there. I know how he hates that!
