Not much more than 3 weeks ago was the sad commemoration of the day that Lorissa prematurely left this world. I had elected to mark that occasion with a mood of nostalgia and sentimentality, which culminated in the release of several uncommon photographs that I came into possession of thanks to the trust and generosity of her ex-fiance David Keeter. One of them is the photo displayed above, taken at her sweet 16 birthday party back in 1986, with that same warm and loving smile that caused a substantial chunk of my generation to fall in love with her.
If she were still with us today, she would be 44 years old, and probably either continuing her work in the film industry with maybe some occasional modeling on the side, though she had always wanted to be a school teacher and was interested in working with Kindergarteners had things panned out differently. Per David's own testimony, she was a very nurturing and benevolent soul that was always interested in working with children, and did some volunteer work at a day care back during her time in Melbourne, Florida.
As the effort to bring her killer to justice is ongoing, I am nevertheless reminded that any justice that will be had is just that, justice. While justice is a defining law of how all of us live, it is not life itself, and any hope that we harbor for the restoration of life is not found in justice alone, but in something more. Goodness is not only confined to the nature of our choices, but also in the nature of being, and thus I've come to have a new take on the very concept of a birthday. As in the account of Genesis when God looked upon all that was created and saw that it was good, there is a goodness in the very object of life itself. A birthday is such a joyous time because it marks the addition of something good to the world.
In light of this, any concept of good can only be diminished by its absence, and thus Lorissa's birthday has become something of a time for lamentation for those who cared the most for her. As I write this blog, somewhere over 300 miles south of where I sit is a man sitting alone in the woods with a single candle lit in her memory. In that act of goodness to her memory is also a hope that like the flame flickering in the wind, that at some time, somewhere, the fire of life can be regathered and set alight again. It is with this in mind that I dedicate the following sonnet to both her memory and the man that misses her most.
As the effort to bring her killer to justice is ongoing, I am nevertheless reminded that any justice that will be had is just that, justice. While justice is a defining law of how all of us live, it is not life itself, and any hope that we harbor for the restoration of life is not found in justice alone, but in something more. Goodness is not only confined to the nature of our choices, but also in the nature of being, and thus I've come to have a new take on the very concept of a birthday. As in the account of Genesis when God looked upon all that was created and saw that it was good, there is a goodness in the very object of life itself. A birthday is such a joyous time because it marks the addition of something good to the world.
In light of this, any concept of good can only be diminished by its absence, and thus Lorissa's birthday has become something of a time for lamentation for those who cared the most for her. As I write this blog, somewhere over 300 miles south of where I sit is a man sitting alone in the woods with a single candle lit in her memory. In that act of goodness to her memory is also a hope that like the flame flickering in the wind, that at some time, somewhere, the fire of life can be regathered and set alight again. It is with this in mind that I dedicate the following sonnet to both her memory and the man that misses her most.
~Across The Infinite Chasm~
A distance set without a bridge or path
Yet a promise of a way to be kept.
Division is fleeting, no root it hath
Even by the endless sea of tears wept.
What is space but the emissary's road?
What is space but the emissary's road?
What is time but the measure of a word?
Traveling from the messenger's abode,
To the waiting heart by which it is heard.
Be still, the memory of things unsaid
Make way for the light of a moment seized.
Love endures beyond the passing soul's bed
The lost still remembers, the spirit pleased.
A time for mourning, but never for shame
A time for mourning, but never for shame
Across The Infinite Chasm, call her name.
Happy birthday lorissa we miss you
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday Lorissa.
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by Ken. Did you know Lorissa by any chance? At some point I may be attempting a Biography of her life and I am looking for any and all credible sources for potential material.
DeleteTake care.
I miss lorrissa. I lived with her from 2004 to 2006 and things were a little chaotic. I loved her and she supported me the best she knew how as I did for her. ( The blind leading the blind) I don't know if she killed herself or not however I do know that she had tried twice when we were in each other's presence.
ReplyDelete