THE LIGHTS THAT SHINE

Painting by William Bougeureau-The Day of the Dead
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`````Last Tuesday, I had to do a quick dash to the store for some Diet Pepsi and kibbles. I had spoken with my friend back east only the night before, but he had promised to phone again that evening. I was due back in to work the next day, and I was stuffing items into the laundry and leaving everything to the last minute, as usual.

`````In the store parking lot, I spotted a familiar face. She looked pained, even though she was surrounded by two or three other people. Their body language betrayed their concern for her. When I stepped out of my vehicle, I understood why. There were Christmas lights around the Hydro pole on the corner. As there was no plug in, these required batteries. But there they were--strung---a challenge to vandals.

`````This was no holiday decoration, however; it was a sad shrine that had stood there for years. The theme changed with the holidays, yet the items planted at its base and afixed to the pole remained forever those of a child. This you see, was one of the roadside memorials which are increasingly becoming a monument to loss and grief.

`````"B" seems like a nice woman; I say hello and speak to her when we cross paths. She works part time at a couple of stores in this small town. And, given the size of the city, her story is one we are all aware of. She had been raising her grandchild, as her son had been having some problems. I don't know what had become of his mother. One night, as he drove home on his bicycle, he went through a light and was hit by a car. That driver was not the villian; there was nothing he could have done. It was close to ten or eleven at night and weather conditions weren't ideal for visibility. He had the right of way. That person could have been yanked out of the pages of a Herriot novel. He was the local vet, and his British accent was authentic. The house in which he lived was the closest thing to a thatched cottage that one can imagine. Cows meandered on his small farm, amidst the stone wall and hedges. This man, literally a week or so from retirement, was left devastated.

`````These were seconds that could have happened to any of us. Loss we could all suffer or share in. One of those events that changes absolutely everything forever. We all grapple with tragedy and life in our own way. Sometimes we may not understand why it is that people find solace in particular activities.

`````"B" tends to her memorial, and people leave it alone. Thankfully, no suit from the Electric Company has complained about the pole. No recriminations have been cast or posted in the local paper towards any parties. Maybe the shrine reminds people to stick helmuts onto their children as they ride their bike.

`````But, this time of year isn't always a happy one for people. It is sometimes a void of vast loss that is difficult for those untouched by that hand to understand. It's easy to get short tempered with the crowds and charge-cards and to miss that person, standing off by themselves. We might not know their story, but as intuitive, intelligent people we have to be able to ascertain that things aren't going well.

`````That memorial shrine is B's link to her grandson. Yet, others, such as the elderly in homes, may have nothing. I hope that people remember to visit them at this time of year.