Today, in honor of “Writing Myself Alive” I’m posting a short excerpt of my novel that is releasing this fall. Finn, Again. is a deeply moving tale of one man’s journey down a path he never intended, searching for a life he never knew he wanted.
I hadn’t been to church in quite some time. I wasn’t sure exactly where God and I stood on a lot of things, but I went out of respect for the dead. I crossed myself and knelt in all the right places, feeling sufficiently numb the entire time. Then, just as the priest was giving a sermon on death, I broke.
I don’t mean that I broke down and cried. I mean something shattered in the core of my being and I got up and bolted out of that church. I left my jacket on the pew and everyone sitting there and literally ran out the back door. I ran with no regard to the pain in that shoulder. I ran up into the hills as far as I could. I ran until I didn’t have any breath left. And then I started to scream.
As the church bells rang out, I dropped to my knees and let fierce cries marry with the clanging of the bells. I screamed and I wept until I had no more voice and no more tears. I screamed inside my soul and I swore angry words to a God who made no sense–a God who took parents from children and children from parents.
I sat there for a long time, just letting the wind blow across my tear-stained cheeks. The air seemed to come alive, as if it were picking up my tears and pulling them down to the harbor. The sea had a mesmerizing power, and a wisdom born of eternity. Its waves had crashed every shore throughout time, pushing its waters in and pulling them back out. Some things it kept, like the bodies of the lost. Some things it gave back, like pieces of broken vessels and boxes of remembrance. The sea was like a great collector of sorrow. All those salty tears–the cries of the lost, for the lost, deposited for safe keeping. For eternity.
Maybe it was my tears that needed to get lost at sea, not me. Maybe they needed to go and mingle with the others, so I could go forward. I imagined the air sparkling like Bree’s eyes as it wafted out over the water, gently laying what was left of my grief to rest.
From the novel: Finn Again. Fall 2015
By Lynda Meyers