I think that I must be crazy.
There's no two ways about it.
I slipped into the Church just before the family entered the sanctuary. After a moments hesitation, I found a seat at the end of a pew with a handful of people from my own Church, from long ago. Mostly, the mourners were from this Church, that of Marcia's grandfather.
It took me a moment to recognize Marcia's brother, Greg, from behind. He has a neck like a bull linebacker now. And perhaps even less hair than I do.
I admit it, I was checking out these old friends, people that I hadn't seen in--eighteen years? --when suddenly Marcia turned in her seat, glancing over her shoulder. She was looking in my general direction, and a sudden smile flickered across her face. I'd like to believe that it was meant for me, but there were plenty of possible candidates beyond where I was seated. Perhaps Barb or Virginia had waved to her.
As I mentioned in the last post, I stayed at the Church, for various reasons, and God and I had a chat. He usually gets His way when that happens. And I'd like to think that He did this time.
I had written Marcia a long and personal letter, and eventually mailed it last week. I was quite certain, after all of these years and a thousand-odd miles of separation, that I wouldn't see her again, and there were a few memories that I wanted to share with her.
Check the dates. I started posting this series the same day, with Marcia Last.
Two days later, her brother Greg e-mailed that their grandfather Ray had passed away, and the funeral would be on Monday.
Who says that God doesn't have a sense of humor?
Frankly, I was horrified that I had written Marcia such a letter--to have it arrive at almost the same time as news that her Grandfather had passed away. I felt like a horrible person.
Her reaction to me at the funeral seems to mean one of three things.
Either she hasn't read the letter yet...
Or she doesn't think that I'm horrible...
Or I am horrible, and she has graciously forgiven me.
Pretty straightforward, isn't it?
All right, so the last one doesn't seem terribly likely.
Uh huh.
I should point out--we discussed this in the last post, after all. I have to forgive myself...and live.
I meant it.
So did He, for that matter.
That's what God gave us life for.
So...
When I entered the Church gym for the luncheon, Greg was absent, and both Marcia and her mom Carol were in conversations. I didn't wish to interrupt, so I...lingered, until I caught Carol's eye. She seemed pleased to see me, and we caught up on life until I realized that I had monopolized her, with everyone else well along the buffet line
We continued talking, and Marcia was across the aisle from us, picking up her plate. After a few moments, she greeted me with a smile and, "It's nice to see a familiar face."
We chatted a tiny bit, but I was more than aware of Carol beside me, and our own paused conversation. As I said yesterday, I was a bit...reticent.
Oh, I did say one thing.
"If I didn't see your family today, I don't think that I'd have ever forgiven myself."
Considering my track record, there's a remarkable amount of utterly profound truth in that statement.
When I made it through the buffet line, Carol made her way to a table with her cousin. Marcia was sitting at a table in company with someone, and not wishing to intrude, I found an open seat with some of the people from my old Church.
Odd, me not wishing to intrude.
After a moment, she and her companion made their way over to her mother's table.
After lunching, I found an open spot, and waited in hopes of Greg returning.
His mom's opinion was that either he and his family had immediately headed out of town, or stopped for pizza. Flip a coin.
Marcia's son sat down at the empty table I had occupied. He obviously felt like a fish out of water. That made two of us. I attempted a brief conversation, but found my mind unusually blank.
I did catch Carol one last time--at the dessert table. It was nice to say good-bye.
After a while, I gave up on Greg...er, um...as well as an opportunity for a brief chat with Marcia before I departed.
I simply couldn't impinge upon family moments. And Marcia certainly was engaged with family.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I laughed at myself--again, as I mentioned yesterday. Because of course, once again, part of me had been afraid to open up and talk with Marcia.
A smaller part, I think, than twenty years ago. It simply hadn't been the right moment.
And I had worked through more fear that day...than I care to admit.
Truth.
And she's still beautiful.
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