Poor Miss Havisham

Last weekend, I felt another wave of grieving at the end of Palm Sunday mass. The violins played the way Dori liked them to play, and I could do nothing but cry, missing her so badly. Kathryn comforted me while I prayed and cried, letting the church empty of happier souls.

Our yard is a sanctuary, the place Dori so enjoyed her last month on earth. Last weekend, my mother planted our backyard garden and potted flowers on our deck. She worked very hard to enliven that sanctuary this spring, and she did an amazing job. The weather has been nice, and I've spent a lot of time outside.

My mother's generosity and love reminded me of last year's gift from our friends the Grandes and Kohls, who transformed our yard for Dori the way my mother has for me and the children. As I was rereading parts of this blog on Good Friday, I came across a poignant quote that Dori cited from Anne Frank in her famous diary:

“I don't think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains.”

Today's homily was about resurrection, of course, and not staying in the tomb. Father Dexter talked about how each of us can tend to stay in places like a tomb, embracing darkness and a deathlike existence, like Miss Havisham in Dickens' "Great Expectations." She was the young woman who was jilted by her fiance moments before her wedding. She allowed that event to define her life, and became wretched, lonely and vindictive.

Dori is in New Light, I am certain. During Easter Mass, we witnessed a baptism, which is a reminder that we each begin anew with our Lord and Savior. I believe Dori, and God, want me to stay in the Light on this earth. She did while she was here. She saw great darkness and rejected it. Now it's my turn to follow her example. That is my prayer tonight and will be in the coming days. Amen.