.....and far too many stars have fell on me

A Leonid meteor shower peaks tonight.  I long to see shooting stars and make my wishes upon them, but they are so elusive.  I try to sit out and watch for them during these special events but inevitably it is too cold, there are too many mosquitos or my neck just gets tired of craning backwards.  Still I prevail, and try, at least, to watch the night skies for signs of movement other than blinking airplane lights. 

There was a time in my life when I was afraid to look up at the night sky.  When I was about 10 or 11 I was with a friend and we saw some very strange lights we were certain was a UFO come to get us.  From then on I would avoid the stars out of fear of what I might see.  Now it is the opposite.  I find myself searching the stars.  I don’t know what exactly I am searching for, or why, but I have an overwhelming need and desire to feel a closeness with the heavens.  Maybe it is because two years ago tomorrow, there was another Leonid meteor shower I watched innocently while across town a light was leaving the earth to join those above me.   

It’s funny how memory works.  Some things I long to remember, like Christmas mornings when I was little, but cannot squeeze the memory out of hiding.  Other things I wish I could forget, like embarrassing moments that keep replaying like a tape recorder on rewind/fast forward.  There are parts of that day two years ago that I remember too clearly no matter how hard I wish I could forget.  The morning started off in a terrible way with a stupid argument with my husband.  That argument ruined the rest of my day.  I walked around in a gray funk all day, sorry for things I had said, hoping he was sorry for things he had said.  That afternoon after work I was looking forward to getting home and making it all right.  The sun was setting in front of me and James Taylor was on the radio singing about no matter how down and troubled I was I had a friend.  For some reason this made me think of my deceased sister, and I cried all the way home.  Thinking back I always wonder if I saw the ambulance coming my way in the eastbound lane.

After supper my husband and I went outside to watch the meteor shower. We sat together on the bench he built for me out of the leftover granite used for the countertops in our house.  It was a cold night made even colder by the granite, but sitting there we made up for the argument of the morning and all was forgiven.  I remember seeing one shooting star, moving very slowly across the sky, almost in slow motion.  I was amazed at it because most of them go by so fast you can barely see them, but this one was taking its sweet time inching across the blanket of stars in the background.  Thinking back I always wonder if it was him waving goodbye to me.

When we were too cold to stay out any longer we went inside.  My husband went to his office to clean.  Afterall, Thanksgiving was going to be at our house and his office was a dusty mess.  I went into the living room to watch a Judy Garland movie, the one where she sings about the Atchison, the Topeka and the Santa Fe.  I always liked that song because I often call my son, Addison, Atchison, from the song.  I don’t know how the movie ended because mid-way there was a phone call which led to my husband calling my children together to tell us news I refused to believe no matter how much he tried to convince me it was true.  I remember a black hole opening up and I was so close to falling in, but something held onto me.  Thinking back I always wonder why terrible things happen.

I remember saying we had to go to the hospital, telling myself I had to be there for the others, when actually I didn’t even know if they were there.  I pulled on a green sweater, one that I don’t even take out of storage anymore.  There are other things I remember, though, I wish I could forget.  The looks on the faces of the frat boys in the hall outside of the ICU, the looks on the faces of the family inside the ICU.  The feeling of utter horror in knowing the nightmare I was in was a reality.  Thinking back I always wonder where the strength comes from to deal with such tragedies at that moment when strength is needed the most.

Two years later, on this night I go out and sit in the cold on the granite bench with my dog at my side, and I watch for shooting stars as she searches in the weeds beside me.  I am looking up and she is looking down where I used to look in the UFO fear days.  I am looking for that shooting star moving in slow motion.  I want to wave back at it, and tell him everything is O.K. down here, so go and have your great adventure.

I have finally come to a place of peace over what all has happened.  The black hole is a distant dot on the horizon.   Sometimes, like tonight, it comes close enough for me to peer in from a distance, but not close enough to engulf me.  

Thinking back I always wonder why this young man, who I knew since he was almost a baby, was so special to me.  So very special he was.  So very special he is.