Annual Memorial Service Wednesday, November 5th, 2003

Our home family consists of seven young adults, with varying types of disabilities. Jacob, twenty-four, having severe mental, physical, and medical handicaps, saw life through rose-colored glasses. Jacob died unexpectedly eleven months ago.

Despite all the reservations about attending, we decided to go. To start the evening, we had a memory filled family dinner, afterwards going for a walk on a beautiful fall crisp evening. Discussing God, the sky, stars, and moon and Jacob’s place in the universe, we saw a nearly full moon, shining brightly through the clouds. As we walked, kicking leaves, flooding memories came of Jacob; his giggles and squeals of joy while playing with leaves. He loved the rustling noise they made. They were musical to him. Jacob’s life was about music, he heard music where others did not, and brought that music to all around him.

Imagine our surprise as we enter the dimly lit church to find the floor thickly covered with fall leaves, oaks, and maples, with smells reminiscent of the fall night. On the screen, a picture of trees with their changing colors was showing. Walking into church was a continuation of our evening walk. The only thing missing was the moon. It was beautiful; Father George greeting people brought warmth as if we were at a burning fire pit with family and friends. Amid laughter, Father George threw arms full of leaves over the children’s heads.

The service began with Roger Dick reading a poem about strolling through fall leaves and lifetime of memories it held for the author. People’s faces mirrored our own flooding memories. Thinking back to our childhood using leaves for play excitement, then following our minds wandering through the years of leaves to the present. For us the present is about our children including our oldest son Keith, who died three years ago, while kicking leaves during hunting. Hunting was his life so fall leaves brought a special type of joy for him. And, of course, Jacob who saw leaves as musical joy.

Lighting a candle from the Easter candle, representing new life, we processed through the leaves placing our candles into bronze pots, while naming our loved one. Kicking through the leaves, we returned to our seats, watching others do the same. Father George spoke to us about life of a leaf and our own circle of life. Although music and communion were a part of this service, my mind kept returning to all the memories leaves had brought forth.

'All good things must come to an end', Richard informs a celebrant.

Father George invited us all for hospitality. My children are food enthusiasts who normally would race to the table; not one left the church, wanting only to play in the leaves and talk about Jacob. The symbolism of the service was lost on them, but enchanting recollections filled their heads.

It came to an abrupt halt as Richard, the maintenance person, entered yelling, “Stop throwing those leaves, I have to clean this place”. All were more than willing to help rake (well, really sweep) and bag up the leaves, still laughing. Steve Kremer, packing up his guitar in readiness of going home said, “It isn’t often you get to rake leaves in church”. “Maybe not, but I love it” exclaimed one leaf enthusiast.

What a warm, surprising way to continue filling the hole in our lives vacated by Jacob.

Nancy Lynch says, "Joy is being a wife, Mom of fourteen(including daughter below), eight with varying disabilities and living at home, Grandma of thirteen, and Great Grandma of three. Serenity is listening and watching the ocean, alone, at our home on Maui. Passion is friends, photography, reading, swimming and children." Nancy can be reached at nalynch@aol.com.