Keeping the fires lit

My adrenaline is pumping again. A surge courses through when Denise and I feel uplifted by many helping hands and strong hearts.

There’s a renewal of energy as this fall begins. Part of which infuses the community event our nonprofit will hold on Saturday October 1, the Hope Floats Memory Walk. 

A gathering of several hundred people, the walk is a day of remembrance to honor our loved ones. It is poignant and halting, while also generating smiles and many hugs. We set aside a morning to hold those we miss close. And we do it alongside others on a quiet walk to Kingston’s picturesque waterfront and back for lunch on the lawn. 

That moment we realize we’re not walking alone can be empowering.

There’s a camaraderie that none of us would have ever wished for. 

An aching dichotomy is part of that energy surge. There is longing for our son, for his presence and wondering where his life would have led, his aspirations, all that he’s missed amongst our family and his friends.

There are regrets, some dark—and then there is light. We believe in what is possible, how their lives touched others and still matter. Perhaps we can also believe again in the best of ourselves.  

There is isolation—because the world spins by us, and a sudden trigger, a date, a certain song, a holiday approaching, bring us again to our knees. 

And then there is accompaniment. That moment we realize we’re not walking alone can be empowering. Perhaps this parallels an awareness that reclaiming hope is a tangible thing. You might actually feel and hold it, if fortunate enough to be moving forward in your grief. 

They do not forget. It brings chills.

There are too many pithy quotes about hope. I don’t believe this from author Barbara Kingsolver is among them:

”Hope is a renewable option: If you run out of it at the end of the day, you get to start over in the morning.”

Renewable and visceral. We felt this again just the other night. A group of Michael’s buds, along with others in their circle, now in their late 30s and several raising families, were at our house. They are starting to organize a golf tournament next year (June 26!) to benefit Hope Floats, to help us sustain outreach that supports grieving families. It will also be a gala celebration— mixed with laments and laughter, and, I imagine, some of their stories.  

His friends will drive this. Think about that. Twenty years later, following a tragic car crash that killed two friends, while building careers and for some, finding soul mates and becoming dads, they do not forget. It brings chills.

For Mike and PJ. For whom we must keep the fires lit.

And for so many families facing the worse trials of their lives. For whom we pledge to keep the fires lit.  

Our tears this week may be closer to relief or even finding peace.

There’s probably no such thing as tears of sheer joy. Ours are sometimes mixed with lingering anguish or with the pain that gets ripped open from time to time like an old scab. Yet our tears this week may be closer to relief or even finding peace. Since there is joy in knowing how Mike is remembered and still a part of his friends’ lives, and joy we receive from their untainted giving.

Sort of a timeless reciprocation. Which in moments just blows me away. 

Another example of this, a mini-surge on its own, came earlier this week. Our friend Tony LaGreca found Hope Floats seeking help after his son died of an overdose in 2014. While at first skeptical whether a support group would help, Tony found it meaningful and often comforting to be with other parents.

He has done many things since then advocating for families stricken by the opioid crisis. He also hosts a podcast on WMEX 1510 AM opening up the phone lines, and his heart, to others who have lost loved ones to this scourge.  

The program is called “Courage to Hope with Uncle Tony.” It is part of his mission to make sure his son’s death was not in vain. I joined him the other day on the program to talk about the Memory Walk and ways that adults and families find support during their worst trials. 

Tony is a warrior, keeping his own fires lit.

He is among a great circle of people, fluid, incandescent, and stretching, who keep us grounded. While also lifting us up. 

Keep me in your heart for a while

Hold me in your thoughts
Take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes
Keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you
“Keep Me in Your Heart” by Warren Zevon