On May 8, 2010, in Hadley, Massachusetts, there was a double rainbow.
I could use literary magic to make more of it than it may have meant, or photos, or my inner most thoughts, but honestly, I think these colors can stand their own ground and own merit. For whatever reason it was that brought them here twice, was as anything with a charge is, and has to be…. two.
Good and bad. Positive and negative. Darkness and light. Pain and forgiveness. Heaven and Hell. Life and death.
May 8th represented not only the first lighting of Conor’s Light, but also what would have been Conor Reynolds 18th birthday. It also represented for many far and wide, a sign of change, of hope, peace and yes, forgiveness. This light stood for honor first and foremost, the force of #5 on the soccer field, a captain among captains, and loyalty that had not been seen lately in our city, by many, if any.
On this day there was no party, no cake, and no presents. Conor Reynolds would not see, (at least from this plane,) his eighteenth birthday. Or Mother’s Day. Or his graduation. Or the prom.
He would instead give up his life on a dance floor at a birthday party, to break up a fight that he was not involved in. On this birthday, not his own, Conor would lose his life in a senseless act of violence by a gang member. He would be fatally stabbed in the neck, and carried out by friends to die in a parking lot with his girlfriend next to him, covered in his blood. This high school senior, and all star soccer player would make a decision, in a split second to act in peace and for that, he would offer his life.
And it would be taken.
And so only a little more than a month later after Conor was fatally stabbed in the neck, his family and friends gathered both near and far and did what all people do on a birthday. They lit a candle. They did this, we did this, we all did this with only one wish: Peace.
On this day, May 8th, strangers to the Reynolds family sat in the rain and heavy winds (if they were in New England) or sat in anticipation of lighting a small candle in a dark neighborhood to show support of someone they never met. People from the east coast to the west, south, north and beyond offered what they thought was a small act, for a greater cause. They did this because I asked, and that was enough.
On this stormy night, with lightening flashing all around and gusty winds blowing I sat with my boyfriend and his grandson AJ, on our front steps in the rain with candles, doing all we could do to keep them from going out. The storm, mostly unpredicted, came in wildly, and with full force.
It blew out only one candle, (which I quickly relit) but threatened constantly with heavy rains, echoing thunder, flashing lightening and leaves that constantly flew violently across the lawn. This storm was violent, but not angry. It was gusty but not windy and wet without much rain. For a brief moments it was not two, it was One.
Finally, quietly I said my last prayer to the Man upstairs, and softly blew out the candles that we had lit just an hour or so before.
I stood there for a moment in the dark and sighed. Was it enough? I wondered. Peace was after all, a pretty big wish.
I sat by that night, close to the storm, close to the thunder pounding and lightening flashing out my window. As I tried to relax with a glass of wine in my favorite aunt’s chair, (which is mostly broken and tattered,) I felt grateful. I could not explain my connection to this vigil and didn’t have to thankfully. Candles were lit and people sat out and offered hope when on this night, there was very little.
And although there may have been little hope, and little to hope for, there was one thing:
There was light.
In small neighborhoods in Somersworth, NH, the son of a high school friend sat by with his vigil, and in Rhode Island a friend lit three candles and prayed, and in Natick a family friend stood vigil, and in the Spencer Abbey, a monk who I know only through email said a vigil and prayer and lit a candle for Conor and for peace. There were more too, many, many more.
My new friend Tessa and her friends said it best when they lit their candle on Windy Hill in Tortola and made a toast that went something like this: For Conor, among the stars in the Virgin Islands. And for that moment, as we connected nationwide and beyond, I can only hope that our candles could be seen on the other side, as one flame and as One, everywhere and Every Where.
On a night with power flickering and huge wind gusts and pouring rain, we lost power at our house. Everything went out…except one lamp. As I sat in the darkness of the living room, listening to the rain pound the metal roof on the porch, one light stayed on in the darkness. A tiny lamp, given to me by a dear friend, stayed lit. Against all odds and rules, this lamp did not go dark.
I guess on a night that held so much energy that a double rainbow appeared, I could expect nothing less. Thank you everyone, for making Conor’s Light a night that could represent something other than sadness.
As each candle was lit with the hope of peace, each was quietly gently blown out with honor, respect and love. Imagine the energy of one soul to create such an evening.
Cheers Conor, and thank you…for leaving the light on, on your end.
Peace, Chris
Entries (RSS)