We attended an early church service, and after a powerful message on the necessity of the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, and how this impacted the life of Jesus, we were left challenged. Immediately, afterwards, we headed over to the Fraser River shore, where Deborah's memorial was. This was my first and only time going there. The weather was a balmy fall sunny day. A slight wind stirred the leaves on almost picturesque trees. I still couldn't help hearing the traffic on the bridge, and seeing the massive iron construction, and concrete walls everywhere. What a very cold atmosphere, with arched metal, and iron everywhere, along the bridges.
My older daughter explained to me how the two fire trucks had parked on the street leading to the park. She noted to me that the ambulance folks have carried in a stretcher to the park. All, on that dreadful second day, Deborah's body washed to shore.
I solemnly walked to the stone, where her memorial lay. Her photos bled together from the rain and the candle wax bubbled, now cold, and adhered itself to the big boulder. Her bench with careful notes of love, was dismantled partially, and turned upside down. We saw ashes of a fire nearby. The flowers were wilted, except for a few fake ones. One letter and a card survived, outpouring sympathy and expressions of grief and guilt, and regrets.
The pink cross could be seen from afar, one letter said. People see it from the sky-train; one girl said. The cross, a place of healing, and surrender. Laying it all at Jesus' feet, all our burdens, all our cares. The youth who held vigils there, sometimes more than ten at a time, were refreshed in the unity of grief, loss and love. One mother prayed as an example to all. (Be still and know, that I am God, I will never leave you or forsake you.)paraphrased.
Some love letters read :
"Jump on some clouds for me".
"It seems selfish to have self pity when you were ultimately the one who was suffering."
"But it's really hard to think with an unselfish tone because all I can think about is how I will never hear your giggle again or how I want to see that smile of yours with those amazing dimples".
"I hope God is treating you well and that Jesus greeted you with a big hug, filled with the combined love of all the lives you touched while you were down here".
We brought the pink wooden cross home, and the broken bench. No matter how broken, we will treasure every grain of wood. The cross symbolizing the One at Calvary, Who lives in our heart, Who died and rose again. The love chest of sympathies though now dismantled, will be restored as a permanent fixture of love in her memory.
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