Heartbreak and Beauty

I had joyfully baked cookies all day—the old Christmas cds I used to play while making cookies with the kids blared from the hallway as the heady smells of sugar, butter, and chocolate filled the air. We were anticipating a trip to Kansas City to celebrate with the Brake family before taking the longer drive to Texas. We would leave in four days. Then a phone call. One of Chris’ brothers was in the ICU. It didn’t look good. Tests needed to be done. Unbeknownst to us, he had been ill for over a year, seriously ill—but didn’t want us to worry. If only cookies could heal heartbreak and cancer.

He died the day before we were leaving. We packed and drove with a heaviness that insulted the season of joy around us. Or was it the other way around? It seems like the only thing we could voice was our shock and disbelief. We spent a few days with the Brakes, in sorrow instead of excitement. And yet, seeing them, the remaining two brothers and their dear wives, placed a bandage over our wounds. In essence, it stopped the bleeding. We shared meals around the same tables the Brakes had gathered around for holiday fun for decades. Beautiful memories flooded my brain and heart. Gram and Gramps and the two uncles were still there with us.

We drove to Austin, Texas to see Emily and Shawn. The long trip was tiring. A dullness of unprocessed feelings kept us quiet, and sitting for so long in sorrow stiffened our muscles. Nothing like death to make a person feel old. We spent the night in Denton before braving the constant construction on I-35. One of our anticipated events with Emily and Shawn was to go on the Luminary Walk at Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. Two days before Christmas—a festive event. I gathered my energy. Through the darkness we walked with luminaries lighting our way.

Chris noticed the real star above the lit tree. Darkness and beauty.

On the Luminary Walk, our eyes adjusted to the darkness. Our hearts began to adjust to the shock and sorrow. We saw kids playing on luminous swings, climbing structures, and mazes. We remembered the incredible fun and laughter Jon brought to all our lives. Lights illuminated certain trees that have lived long and endured many storms. Our memories highlighted the travails that Jon endured with strength and wit. We all walk the Luminary Walk through life. We encounter darkness—loss, heartache, hurt, confusion, and rejection—but there are luminaries all around us who can help us see through the heartbreak and darkness to find and feel the beauty once again.