A Funeral Message for Doug

Doug was a childhood friend of mine. When junior high hit we drifted our separate ways and I didn't always treat Doug like I should have. There are things I regret and on the eve of his funeral, 12 years ago, I penned this and read it the next day at his funeral. Doug took his life when he was at his lowest. At the same time I was at the highest point in my life, just 2 weeks away from my wedding. It put things into perspective and it was another reminder that my Feebleness has always been a part of me, even in my youth. 

The Path
Read at Douglas Lord’s Funeral Nov. 3, 2001

Harvest moon beams softly falling upon the darkened soil. Many walk upon this path of an empty trail, seemingly endless. Jagged cold rocks, too big to move, too high to climb. Searching the way through the bitter darkness like winter as he waits for far distant summer. Forward, moving forward, but where? For it is night. A frigid breeze flowing by and stinging an un-mended heart.

Shattered glass upon the path, cutting naked tender feet. A waterfall of tears riding upon a valley of pain, flowing nowhere. Lost in this forest of blackened hunger. Thirsting, aching. A fog of thick un-yielding questions permeate, pounding, unforgiving. Wilted flowers, fallen atop pebbles of yesterday. Pedals forlorn, a broken stem and a lighted harvest moon… why?

One arrives in the darkness, a Gardener. Plain, simple and serenely simplistic is this man of tempered clay. With the light of the sun in his bright burning eyes, with wings of all powerful love graced upon his back, with peace floating on his cheek and an all masterful plan written deep within his breast the Gardener steps onto the path with marks in his earth shaped feet and soft open hands. As he speaks a blanket of overpowering peace gushes forth.

A peace, sinking into the darkest forgotten corner. Like a blaze of burning fire it inflames a once cold and empty bosom. Engulfing a once gray and tired mind. Beyond time and into sweet memories. Memories of a being, a school boy of long ago. A smile to cheer and a love for all. A heart so big, so full. A love for even the tiniest of animals. Dirt and boyhood toys, together we played, we laughed yet never needed to cry. His parents, hearts of in-measurable gold. Rich in happiness, open and caring to all. Memories of my childhood friend, my little buddy. A laugh to make secure the heart of the loneliest stranger and a desire to give to all. Standing in a pool of memories upon the endless years are we.

Appearing again, the Gardner to point out the path ahead. Speaking to the soul the all masterful plan, a plan of enflaming happiness, for you,  for me. To live, to live again, death hath no chains to bind. For these engulfing bands have been broken by the Gardner. For he kneels and with tears he picks up the fallen flowers, pedals and all. Holding them close he turns to meet our gaze, an eternal and hope filled smile. A gentle nod and the once broken flowers, the flowers thought lost, change. No longer brown and lifeless are they. Green, a pure love filled green to stay, to live. A dove descends and the Gardener departs. With the white elegant dove to guide our way the path is clear, no longer alone and a joy filled hope in our eyes. We see anew. Along the pebbled path flowers wilt and flower die, but in time will live forever.

Doug and me on my 8th Birthday

Goodbye Doug, till we meet again. 

-The Feeble Soul  
© 2013