Saturday, July 3, 2010
Light, according early Greek and Hellenistic lore, was thought to have come from Aphrodite, who made the human eye out of the four elements and that she lit the fire in the eye which shone out from the eye making it possible for a person to see at night as well as during the day. Modern science explains the concept of light as refraction from another source like the sun, but the light that connected Mary to her friends, her family, her values and her strength, surely was the Aphrodite kind; it came from within her. It cannot be adequately described, only felt and appreciated.
I met Mary in the summer of 1971. We were barely out of our teens and both newlyweds, and Mary was pregnant with her first child, Jesse. The first time we met, it came up in conversation that I made candles in my spare time and Mary asked me to teach her the craft. We spent the very next day together, making candles and having lunch and talking. I had never felt so comfortable spending an entire day with someone I hardly knew. I'll always remember that day in my tiny apartment with a sense of wonder at how easy she was to be with; how natural and relaxed she was, as if spending the whole day with someone she hardly knew was just regular for her. To me it was extraordinary.
That year Jesse was born just before Christmas and after knowing Mary for only a few months, I didn't want to be anywhere else on Christmas Eve except at Mary's house with the new baby. The love that night around Mary and Jesse was palpable with Pearl and Grandma Mary doting over both of them. We joked that it was like the first Christmas; Mary and Jess were even the right names for the parts, but amidst the jokes we all felt a profound sense of peace and kinship. It was that serenity; that light, that shone from Mary and bonded her to us and to each other.
The years that followed took us both through the journeys of our lives, sometimes apart and sometimes together, but always intersecting. During the last thirty-eight years I've felt my share of pain and despair, but I never felt like I would have to endure anything alone as long I had my friend Mary. She had a way of taking my troubles and making light of them. She didn't dismiss my feelings, but always brought me back to the moment. With Mary problems weren't permanent; she didn't stumble through them, she floated above them. She reminded me to lighten up and showed me that we could choose to let go of problems, and if we made that choice, we would be carried from one moment to the next, and from one eternity to the next.
Perhaps Mary's greatest gift was her ability to equalize everyone. She was comfortable with herself and that made others comfortable with themselves in her presence. She connected people to each other; made others like each other because they liked her. She may have disapproved or disagreed with what someone did or said, but she didn't judge the person. She related to the goodness in people and she welcomed everyone into her home and into her heart. Mary made honesty seem easy. She made our friendship easy. I don't know if I'll ever have a friend that I will love as much as I loved Mary, but I'm sure I will never have one that will love me as unconditionally as she did.
People who become saints and angels are the ones who touch ordinary lives with their grace and generosity and love. They shine on us in the simplest of ways; they teach us not to take life too seriously. Mary's light shined on all of us and influenced us in a way that makes us want to be nicer to each other just because we knew her. Her light now shines through the greatest loves of her life - her children, Jesse, Gregory and Allison. Her light is now even brighter because it's joined with the light of her father, her grandparents and relatives, and even Charlie. It forever glows in all of us and reminds us how to be good friends.
