The stories we live and those shared by loved ones shape the person we ultimately become. 

Epic narratives chronicling the life changing events of our forerunners emerge like a spiritual watchtower to see God’s fingerprint on our lives.

As a young girl, my grandmother’s re-telling of the story of how her beloved sister (Lucimelia) tragically lost her life showed me what it means to carry a torch of love that stays lit till forever.  I could not know at the time how those unforgettable remnants from long ago would help me through the immeasurable loss of my own brother James on September 11, 2001.

My grandmother lived in South America and traveled to the United States whenever possible.  Hence, the time we had together was limited.  I was only too happy to share my room whenever she visited, usually taking place during the hottest summer months.  She is my namesake and I adored her.  Late at night, the bright light from the street lamp outside my house shined onto the walls making it possible for us to play shadow games.  We talked into the wee hours and did our best not to wake anyone with our giggling whispers.

Remembering James through my Grandmother’s Tears

On a swelteringly hot night, I asked my grandmother to tell me Lucimelia’s story.

Growing up, I heard my relatives talk about the “tragic accident” from time to time – but never directly from my grandmother.  With eyes glistening tears, she reached for my hand.  It was as if she needed to hold on to me so that she could travel back in time.  Slowly, the details of that terrible day cut into the silence.

One of seven daughters, Lucimelia was so loved and esteemed for her brilliance and unrelenting dedication to the poor.  It came to pass that she received a special invitation to a Church event and could bring one guest.  Taking my grandmother, the two sisters set out by bus happily anticipating the joyful day ahead.  Somehow, their bus tragically collided with a train.  At this time in history, road signals and safety mechanisms were poorly developed and hardly implemented well.  Seeing Lucimelia’s many injuries, arriving helpers immediately went to her care.  My grandmother described only hearing Lucimelia’s voice calling them to go to the “younger sister” first because she was a mother of several children.

Lucimelia died two days later.

Crowds of people attending her funeral came from all walks of life.  The poor openly wept the loss for the saintly woman who kept them fed.

Despite the passing decades, my grandmother grieved for Lucimelia as if the tragedy was not even a day old.

Through her voice and streaming tears, I clearly saw the invisible torch of love she was carrying light up right before my eyes.  Just as I started to console her, a cool breeze suddenly blew through the open window and covered us.  My grandmother said that God was kissing our sad hearts.

The memory of my grandmother mourning the loss of Lucimelia re-enters my spirit when the pain of losing my beloved brother James on September 11^th encloses my heart with a sting.  Although time can pass as much as it wants, the open wound stays forever.

James’s birthday just passed.  How we miss his dimpled smile and heart of gold.

Like the tearful trail first paved by my grandmother, I live each day always carrying that eternal torch of love for James.

And just as my grandmother showed me, keep turning to the story that God tells us.

“Behold, the dwelling of God is with us. He will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.  And He who sits upon the throne said, “Behold I make all things new (Rev 21).”

All Things New – Elaine Hagenberg

God’s words are trustworthy

His great story is true.

So it is for me.  So may it be for you.