Yesterday, at the Homescoolers' Learning Co-op Presentation Day, we had a ceremony for Jenny. Many families were there with grandmothers, great-grandmothers, cousins, aunts, and friends. We brought flowers from our gardens and we made petal "confetti", held in a huge basket. The mix of colors was beautiful. A copy of what Nina Barbieri had written of our miracle discovery of Jenny's picture was there. The scrap of newspaper with her shining face on it was there. As we filed out of the auditorium, each of us took a handful of petals, walked silently to an open area with grass, formed a huge circle (about 80 people), and remembered Jenny with heart and soul. Nina read her story. We sang a song. We read a poem. We had a moment of silence. We said "We'll always remember you Jenny", we threw the flower petals up into the air. Some of us cried. We broke the circle quietly. Sobered by remembering the fine line between what is here and what is not here. What is here and what should be here. It's true, the ceremony was for us. To make us feel we can "do" something. To help share our continuing feelings of loss. To lift grief off of our individual shoulders, to let the community of shoulders bear the weight of grief together. To manifest, for a few moments, a circle of love. Jenny, in all her Jennyness, was not there. As I left the circle that people formed, all that was left was a circle of color. It was a beautiful and quiet sight. Colors scattered on green grass. I could imagine Jenny looking down on it. How would it look to her through angel eyes?
Nury Blasco Nelson