“Come together right now over me.”
Unceasingly, throughout the days between turning off our firstborn’s life support and gathering for his funeral, that Beatles tune swirled and flickered like a featherweight translucent fish along the oceanbed of my mind.
Under prayers (our oxygen) that might have been mistaken for mere weeping, mere silence, I heard, of all things, Paul and Ringo, George and John (the four apostles of Rock) singing.
It made no sense.
At Parker’s funeral, though, where friends from around the globe had gathered, and his little brothers gave the prayers, my brother read the obituary, our daughter spoke, and we parents gave addresses, I told the guests that Parker’s death, soul-searing as it certainly was, was a chance to come together.
Come together right now over him, I said.
Estranged families, feuding neighbors, petty jealousies, fear-driven suspicions, or simple differences and distances could be rectified due to our love for this one beautiful boy.
Lots of wedges were removed with Parker’s death. Chasms bridged, estrangements healed, feuds quelled. Jealousies softened, fears abated, differences and distances removed.
Some repairs remained so.
Many did not.
And I’ve come to conclude that this is how we humans are. And that the words spoken in a memorial for Parker by Henry J. Eyring, son of apostle Henry B. Eyring, were wise, true, even prophetic. As terrible and deeply sad as Parker’s death felt for us, Henry said, and as certain as we were that his death would be a landmark, a reboot that would change us forever, there is but one death and one death alone that holds the power to change us forever. That is the death of God’s Firstborn, Jesus Christ.
It has been a dense decade-plus-one-year on the world stage since we stood graveside and watched Parker’s casket descend into the earth. We’ve witnessed the normalization of vitriolic estrangement, jealousy, polarization, tribalism, feuding, suspicion, and distancing due to perceived differences.
Beneath that ocean of tumult and countercurrents the tune loops, flickers and swirls eternally: “Come together right now over me.” When will we learn and live that lyric?
© Melissa Dalton-Bradford and melissadaltonbradford.wordpress.com, 2018. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. . . which means, as long you’re not selling it, you’re welcome to share, but please remember to give me a link and mention my name.