The Story That Disappeared

As of all tragedies, they come and they go. Most stick like hot wax on a papery film. Other just breeze by like wind on a hot day. Tragedies are usually built from something that is closest to you, close to your very self. These never go away with time, they replay in your head. You're wondering if there ever was a chance, even the slightest, to change the outcome. And like all good tragedies go, those that stick to the heart; this is the very tragedy that plagues the heart of the author who you are reading. This tragedy, my dear, maybe common or could be rare; never the less it changed the very essence of my being.



This started in an unusual place to see tragedy; yet it's the place to run when you have one. Church. Such irony in a place like this. It's like you were there, people watching, as most Sundays, wondering if anything extraordinary was going to happen. I was young, no more than 10 I believe. A skinny, tall girl with more hair than you ever wanted to deal with. It wasn't necessarily long, it was just distaste of the use of a blow dryer.



My family and I did our usual Sunday routine: wake-up, grumble because you had to wake-up, run to catch the bathroom first, get dressed in something you hadn't worn in the passed month, and look nice for Jesus. We all rode in one car, black Mercedes E-class. We weren't rich, but my father had his mid-life crisis a few years before that and went "luxury". Typically we got to church around 15 til the Mass started and sat in the same section since my birth. It was the right side of the alter, section close to the center isle, and the 5th pue from the front of the section or 3 from the back. Rarely did our seats get taken, everyone from that time knew that we sat there.



My brother, with his antsy legs, decided to be an usher. Nothing big, just stands all Mass and helps people find seats. His "boss", not that they were paid, was a marvelous man. Older, with kind eyes. Always had a smile on his face. Then there was the array of other ushers, young and old. Mostly old. This tradition was set to them, but the younger generation was coming quick to slowly get them out of they job. Of course his leader would never allow that because the young needed the old like the old needed the young. There was a fine line between the wise and the ignornant, one that you shouldn't cross.



To be continued.....