After the Funeral, Hope Decides

The funeral came and went with the News Media.

Of course Hope was devastated losing her mother. And she grieved.

"Don't you ever be ashamed to cry Baby Grand." It was Gramps as he held her and shed his own tears. "I grieve for your mother because she meant something, her life meant something."

He stepped back, wiped a tear from Hope's face, "We grieve because your mother's life mattered."

Then, before she could find a proper time to talk with him about the meditation, Gramps was gone again to preach about the injustice on some News programs.

Her father at breakfast one morning finally was able to talk about it. Finn was at the boathouse, a mile walk through their backyard, fixing up the boat for fishing. It was just her, her father, and Langston.

Her Dad, silent about it to her for weeks, just started talking, "The shooter was another kid, a teenager, who never had anyone tell him he was important. He wanted to matter. That's why he did it. It wasn't mental illness. There's been too many. All the shooters do it for the same reason."

He went on, a kind of mumble, "They don't have anyone to tell them there's anything important about them. They want to show the world they're important. So they choose this because they know their names will be online and everyone will see how important they are."

He looked at his folded hands on the dinner table. "People pay attention to tragedy, so people pay for tragedy. Literally. It's why the News looks the way it does. Billions of dollars everyday are paid to people to flock to it and report it."

"That's not right, father."

"Yes, My Only, but it's established. People fear change more than they fear an occasional shooting."

"All people had to do was to be nice to a kid? To pay him some attention? Tell him he was important somehow? That's all? It just doesn't make sense they didn't."

"People are preoccupied with their schedules, Hopie. Caught up in the busyness of their days. Most just assume it's the parent's responsibility. And they're right. But a lot of parents don't understand, if you want your kids to behave better you have to show them how and then congratulate them when they do. It does come down to kindness and attention. It really, really does."

"What about the teachers?"

"We can't blame them. There's just too many students in each class and not enough hours in a school day. Most do their best. But to recognize every student to be excellent for one particular thing... well it would be helpful. Just not practical the way things are set up."

"Sounds to me the way things are set up is the problem, father."

"Agreed, Hope. Remember to change it requires what people fear the most: Change."

"The world needs some heroes then, father."

"Yes, My Only, the World most definitely could use some more of those."

🐉

Later that morning Hope and Langston on a walk to the boathouse...

Over the past few weeks since 'That Day,' as her family now referred to it, Hope and Langston grew closer.

"It's not that I mean to personify you, Langston. I wouldn't wish that on your species. People rarely make much sense."

The bloodhound kept up with her leashless as they walked side by side through the New England Summer woods.

"It's not like I could just say, 'Mother, I saw a dragon. Or send a text saying, 'Mother, there's a cloud from my meditation hovering over your car.' But I did see it, Langston."

Hope already ruled out delusions or 'being crazy.' She consulted The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders most current version, concluded she was sane, and decided what she saw was... for lack of a better word: real.

What if what she saw was a by-product of Enlightenment? Did she reach it? There'd been no other such visions since. But it definitely was an omen of sorts.

"If I could just find the right words to express it and make it make plausible sense, Langston, I know it's connected some way. I know it can help."

The person she knew best at finding the right words was her adopted brother Finn, The Poet.

"I decided I'm finally going to talk about the grey static, Langston.... with a person, I mean, of course."

She pet behind his ear as they walked. "Finn's the smart choice. I have to do something. It has to mean something."

🐲