Darkened Light
Mary Jane walked into the church. She couldn’t remember which denomination she was walking into, and at that moment, it was like every other one.
People were milling around, somber and silent. Everyone was wearing Sunday best, or Friday or Saturday, depending on what they called God.
She saw the family and the coffin. She steeled herself. She always hated funerals, except for the wakes her Irish friends held. No one seemed to want to remember the dead in life with their joys.
Maybe though sometimes as was the case of John there was little joy. His dad left his mom when he was 2. She had men in and out of her life all his 20 years. None of them loved him as much as they loved her. Some had been downright cruel.
Mary Jane stumbled over a broken tile, and she realized she was almost to the coffin. It caught her breath. John was in his school uniform; his sons were sitting in the front pew too silent for the 2 and 4 they were.
She’d caught the whispers on the way up. Words like OD and suicide, accidental and intentional always sat in her heart in a bad way.
His mom stood alone with his former girlfriend. Mary Jane recognized both from photos John had showed her. The mom’s latest man sat on the pew, looking angry like John had pulled his last stunt for just one more bit of attention. The girlfriend’s latest boyfriend really was better than anyone wanted to admit. He had a strong faith and tried to encourage the boys to love their father as well as him.
Mary Jane remembered some of John’s fiction. She’d been hired by the private school to teach creative writing. She couldn’t figure out how John got placed there. Most kids there were usually higher end socially. They were in and out of trouble all the time. The school was usually the last step before jail in a plea bargain process driven by money, who has it and who doesn’t and who should never have it. Addiction, suicide, violence — it all seemed to swirl together.
John hated the new man in his sons’ lives. Mary Jane thought the new man’s name was Jacob. John used fiction as a drug to counteract the sadness, sorrow, and anger he felt. He’d been too broken to not hurt his former girlfriend. However, he was too broken to admit it wasn’t Jacob’s fault. So in his stories, Jacob was a character he was always killing off. However, on some level, he knew Jacob was the better, less broken man.
John was really pulling it together at the school. His grades were high. He’d created a few clubs: Irish history and folklore, photography, and most surprising of all, stock market. He never had many discipline issues and was often complimented on his wise choices.
Mary Jane made it to the foot of the coffin where the mother and ex-girlfriend stood. She took a deep breath, and sighed, offering her hand first to the mother.
“I’m Ms. MacCraith. I really wish I was meeting you both under far better circumstances. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The mother turned, her eyes red and almost dry. She took Mary Jane’s hand and pulled her into a hug. “This is so hard. I’m Kate, his mother. How did you know John?”
“I had him in a creative writing class last semester at Journey Academy. He was really bright compared to the other students.”
As Kate let go of Mary Jane, her eyes welled up again, “This was so… unexpected for all of us.”
Mary Jane didn’t want to say anything. Every instructor at Journey Academy knew the odds. They knew most kids there didn’t make it. When all hope was lost, jail was the preferable outcome to suicide, overdose, or gang wars. Even so, most instructors didn’t last long if they were too sensitive, which was Mary Jane’s problem.
Mary Jane turned toward the ex-girlfriend, offering her hand, “I know probably everyone is worried about your sons, but how are you doing? Are you taking care of yourself? And your name please… John often wrote about you, even after the breakup, but he could never name you. Almost like if he named you, he’d do you more harm.”
“I’m Amy. Sadly, I’m almost relieved. It will make my future easier, and I hate saying it.” Mary Jane connected with Amy’s hand, but Amy was stiff and not very open, part of the grieving process.
“Feel the negative feelings, and then let go. That can be a healing part of self-care too. Try to just hang onto the good times, for their sakes,” Mary Jane said as she nodded toward the boys and Jacob.
“I know,” Amy sighed.
Sensing without seeing others behind her, Mary Jane continued, “I think I need to pay my respects now. Please take care of yourselves and the little ones.”
She pulled away from Kate and Amy and moved to the coffin. John was there, the most peaceful he had ever been. He’d always cut a stunning figure in Journey Academy’s uniform. His face had a boyish charm that would have followed him well into middle age; he would have been classy, sophisticated, and charming.
Mary Jane caught her breath as she took a second, closer look. She almost wish they would have closed the coffin.
John’s face was puffed. There was bruising at the cheeks. The lips were parched like fields during a drought and his mouth was oddly bumped, like the tongue might have been different. The eyes looked too made up for a man, and there was an odd coloration on them.
No details had truly been released, so she wondered whether drugs were ever really involved. The uniform had a high-collared neck with a tie, not a clip tie but a formal tie-it tie. In her head, Mary Jane saw the one first aid training exercise, a slumped dummy with a tie hanging from a chair.
Shaking her head, she pulled a high-end artificial white rose from her purse, and she laid it by his sons’ teddy bears at his head. “I doubt we’ll meet again, but you knew my story of the white rose I gave my friend in college. Find me if you get it; you know nothing is ever this dark but death.” She whispered.
Sighing, Mary Jane walked toward the door. She never stayed beyond the viewing; it was always too dark. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of scarves and a few hand signals. Her heart sped, and she doubled her pace. Her friends were right — she wasn’t the right kind of person for Journey Academy.
Author’s Note: In honor of the memory of RD, one of the students I had frequently as a guest teacher. Yes, many of the details are fictional and changed to make this fiction, but for millions they are the realities of every day.
Please if you have a problem, seek help:
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/, 1.800.273.8255
- Alcoholics Anonymous, http://www.aa.org/
- Narcotics Anonymous, https://na.org/
- Gang Alternatives Program, http://www.gangfree.org/index.html, 1.888.293.9323
- The National Domestic Violence Hotline, https://www.thehotline.org/, 1.800.799.SAFE (7233)
- The Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline, https://www.childhelp.org/hotline/, 1.800.4.A.CHILD (422.4453)
Your light was dim, and our collective lights were not bright enough to fan it to flame. The dark was too dark and snuffed you too soon.
