Sunday, January 6, 2013
Noah Pozner: icebergs and shooting stars
"Sophia and Arielle ♥ Noah": Arielle colored this little bear with the attached marker the other day. When I saw what she wrote, my heart skipped a beat. She and Sophia are keeping Noah alive in ways that may be unavailable to us grown-ups. They are showing us a path forward. We may not be able to follow them yet but we can watch in hope and wonder.
Yesterday the overhead light started flickering in the living room (it had never flickered before or if it had, we had never noticed it). Sophia looked up and said: "Noah is playing with the light again. Stop it, Noah! We know it's you." She and Arielle giggled. The flickering stopped. They resumed working on their Lego set. I am not saying they don't miss their "real" brother. They do. Very much. They too harbor icebergs of grief in their hearts and we only see the very tips. But because of children's natural resilience, there is more sunshine on their ice floes than on ours and that sunshine feels like a gift.
One of us grown-ups saw a shooting star last night: glowing in front, it left behind a reddish trail against the dark sky. It only lasted a second. The wonder wasn't so much the comet itself (which other people saw as well) as the walking out of the house and looking up at the sky at just the right time. Noah at work again? It sure felt like it. But was it? That's what we grown-ups can never be sure of. Hoping against all doubt that it was indeed a sign, we are still left with the harsh fact that a comet can never replace a little boy snuggling against you or stomping through the house with a ninja sword.