There have been several days of hot wind now. Green grass is beginning to show through, and the trees are fattening. We're only just into spring, and yet this is summer weather. Each season seems to contain within it a foretaste of the one to come. Blurring the boundaries of times and seasons.
And there on top of the TV amid the flowers like a shrine is Trevor's picture. Grandson. Four years old, who died of leukemia last Friday. In the picture he seems plump and healthy, but the toque is probably meant to hide hair missing from the chemicals and radiation. This is a snapshot of child-life dying.
Tomorrow is the second Sunday after Easter. The Gospel is John. Christ's appearance to the disciples and to Thomas. Peace be to you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you. Happy are those who have not seen and yet believe. --- You are the Lord of the living and of the dead. Are you also the Lord of this manner of dying? ("We prayed that he would go. He cried all the time. They gave him morphine every few hours to kill the pain. But he only screamed louder whenever he saw them coming. We prayed that he would go. The last day was the hardest. I'll never forget the last day.") You say that we are blessed to believe without seeing. That is not the problem. The problem is: how shall we see this and still believe? Are you asking of us that we should see and touch this small morphine stunned body and also believe?
Returning home various kinds of hawks kite the wind. And there are also calves.
David Ewart. Kincaid, SK. April 8, 1978.