Without rain, there could not be a rainbow

(Published in The Gaffney Ledger Dec. 24, 2009)


R.I.P. Georgia Mae Robinson and Jordan Smith. Both of you made an impact on my life through your kindness and love for others.

The two of you will reside in my heart until I take my last breath.
I’m usually not one to listen to the superstitions of old that are rattled around by my mother-in-law, grandmother or other relatives.
For some reason Christmas Day last year was different. Fatigued from driving seemingly every stretch of highway in the Palmetto State, I slithered myself onto my mother-in-law’s couch, enjoying the company of friends and family.
The sun glistened as I attempted to take a brief nap, before the snooze alarm — also known as my wife — woke me up to ask — well, better yet, tell — me to perform some sort of task around the house.
However, it was my mother in-law who woke me up on this occasion, reminding us of a myth passed along to her from ancestors.
“Oh my goodness, it’s warm and the sun is shining brightly this Christmas,” she said. “When this happens the devil must be at work, the cemetery must be full of open graves.”
Throughout my life I’ve heard various superstitions, some foolish and many that have stuck with me for years. For example, don’t expect me to sit idle if you run a broom across my feet while trying to sweep the floor or split the pole — seriously, you’ll get either an evil look from me or be grossed out by what I will do next; just a warning.
Many times I take these superstitions with a grain of salt, like dust blown away in the winds of thought swirling in my brain. But for some reason, this one just wouldn’t go away.
In fact, it’s stuck with me throughout the year, hence my reason for writing this column.
In March, my wife’s grandmother passed away from Alzheimer’s Disease years after being diagnosed with the ailment. The pain of her loss still stings to this day, wondering sometimes at family gatherings when she was going to poke her face around the corner and say something we would all laugh about days later.
Little did I know this would be the beginning of sorrows for not only me, but Cherokee County and the world, losing one person after another in 2009.
No doubt, death is something we all will experience, and at some point each of us must deal with the loss of a loved one. But 2009 seemed like a torrential downpour, knocking all of us to our knees and revealing to us that we are mortal, consisting merely of flesh and bone.
Many of us locked our doors this summer, afraid to wander too far from our homes and businesses as 41- year-old Patrick Burris went on a killing spree that took the lives of five people: Kline Cash, Hazel Linder, Gena Linder Parker, and Stephen and Abby Tyler.
Shortly after we were able to dry up our tears from our neighbors’ lives being snatched from them all too soon, we would again mourn the loss of another of our own, Marine Lance. Cpl. Chris Fowlkes, killed in Afghanistan while fighting for the freedoms all of us enjoy.
Many others were lost this year, some of the names we know, others who were complete strangers.
Working here at The Gaffney Ledger, my peers and I rotate weekends hoping to keep a close eye on everything happening in Cherokee County. Before leaving on Friday, at some point one of us will tell the other, “Hope things are quiet this weekend.”
Unfortunately, all too often we would arrive at the office and find out this community had lost another of its members — someone’s mother, father, brother, sister, neighbor or friend.
Similarly, we saw this in sports and entertainment, with the likes of Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Chris Henry, U.S. Senator Ted Kennedy, actor Alaina Reed Hall and a number of others.
The beat kept rolling for me as well, losing one of my college buddies in a horrific car crash. Lost at a time when everything was seemingly going right for him, it definitely was easy for me to look to God and ask “Why?”
In the aftermath of this summer’s killing spree, local Fellowship of Christian Athletes director Pierre Salmon said he felt a storm approaching, and pain would be on the way. Toward the end of the conversation, he told me that despite such loss, there would be so much more this community would gain.
Without rain, there could not be a rainbow. Though our tears are heavy and pain of losing a loved one persists, God encourages us to hold on, using Him as a source of strength even when it seems we have nothing to live for.
This year, the undertaker was too busy for my liking. Next year, let’s make his job difficult.
In 2010, use the memory of lost loved ones to motivate you to become a better person — not only in your eyes, but in those of other people.
In place of tears, lift your voices and enjoy every moment. Live life like today is your last day.

Joe L. Hughes II (joe@gaffneyledger.com) writes feature and enterprise stories for The Gaffney Ledger.