An Ethereal Spirit

Darnell Family,

Please forgive me.  I haven't posted because I was afraid of sorting through my own emotions and sadness.  But the Lord gives strength to those who ask.

One month ago, my cousin, Erica Allie, and I finally decided to make a trip to Pam's grave.  Again, I was afraid of what I would feel and the emotions I would have to deal with.  The weather was awful: cold and wet and gray.  But Pam's place has a sense of calm about it that is physical.  I have trouble expressing intense experiences in ways other than writing, so I wrote a lot about that afternoon.  I want you all to read the poem that resulted.

Sunday, December 4

            We went to find Pam's grave today – but it was waiting for us: the rosed plaque, the bench, the garden.

            In an afternoon of cloudgray, among rotting leaves and exposed dirt, I was surprised by the color-shock of impertinent grass on her gravesite.  That's Pam, though – life and newness, even in bitter rains.

            And though we cried at the words your family left and the emptiness inside us, I had a clear peace – the fairy chimes in your tree danced over the stormy air, riding the windgusts and laughing.

I love each of you dearly, and pray for you when I see the picture of Pam I keep on my desk at school.  May the Lord continue to reveal His love and grace to you every day as He has so faithfully done this far.

Love,
Jess Snyder

--
We are students of words; we are shut up in schools, and colleges, and recitation rooms, for ten or fifteen years, and come out at last with a bag of wind, a memory of words, and do not know a thing
Ralph Waldo Emerson