Glimmer

Note: Contains themes of death of a parent and family grief (non‑graphic).

Warmth gathered around me before I fully woke. The air seemed thick and humid. I could feel the space around me tighten, almost a pulse, urging me to look around. It pulled me to attention. I leaned out of my space to see that there were people. Wait, no - just one. He lay sleeping on the bed. A sudden flutter swept past, making me sway in place. I clung to the small curve that cradled me. I wasn’t ready to step out yet, so I drew myself inward. I made myself small, held still, and waited for this feeling to pass.

The sounds that floated my way were soft.

Hushed.

Tense.

Was that hope? Or… No. Disappointment.

The emotion was too heavy to be comfortable. I could see a couple of my friends had stepped out to watch. However, none of us felt compelled to move further.

When the pull returned, it pushed me to look out. My whole emotional being was telling me to take a look. There were a couple of people there, sitting around a bed. They looked at the man on the bed, but didn’t aim the conversations at him. Instead, they told stories. There was so much laughter! They were loud, happy, silly, and loving. The stories and the space carried the warmth of memories. Good memories. And yet, even as they were told, they seemed to have a shadow looming over them.

Several of my friends sat on the ledge, just watching this small group of people talk. We rested together and hung our feet over the ledge as we listened.

Oh! The stories they told! So full of love! None of us wanted to move from the ledge or lean out too far for fear that it would ruin the moment. We giggled at these people as they picked on each other. We belly‑rolled at times when the stories got outrageous. We genuinely loved hearing the passion for life that flowed so freely through this group.

As it had always done, time slowed. The stories lessened, and the room lights were turned down. We returned to our spaces, feeling warm and content.

The day had dawned and started to wane. Occasionally, the pull would cause me to peek out and take in the room again. I watched the people come and go. I studied the room as the light from the window brightened across the sleeping figure. I listened to stories as the light began to fade. My friends and I connected with the memories as they talked. We took them in and enjoyed the feelings they evoked.

We felt the emotions in the room rise and fall. Laughter swelled in gentle waves, crested, then softened into quiet reflection. People slipped into the room and lingered. Many were reluctant to step away from the stillness gathering around them, held in place by something unspoken - like every heart wished to hold the day in place.

The ledge we occupied felt small, like we could fall off if we reached out too far. I could sense an invisible barrier stopping my little group from leaning. A feeling of the unknown held us back from that space. We wanted to jump, but none of us knew what would happen, so we held back.

Each time I felt the pull - felt compelled, felt summoned - I stepped to the ledge. Each time the feeling in the room seemed darker. The light stretched and changed, causing shadows to dance across the walls. The room grew somber. While it was a quiet feeling of the unknown, a shared strength hugged each person in the room.

The people changed throughout the day. Every person took time to connect with the man on the bed. He was the center of everything. Everyone took turns watching, reaching out, or talking to him. No response came, but they spoke to him anyway.

As I started to return to my space, I felt it.

The moment that had been building.

The pull to the unknown so undeniable that it hurt.

I turned and took in the room.

The stories stopped.

The room sat quiet.

The others all found their way out to the ledge, drawn to witness the moment. The room, shadowed by low lights and hushed tones, was filled with as many people as it could hold. The people were no longer talking, barely whispering. Everyone was listening to the man on the bed as he took shallow breaths.

A breath in.

A breath out.

The room seemed unwilling to shift. The air held its weight, heavy and waiting. Each person holding on to an edge of change they were certain they would never be ready for.

A cough.

A solid sound that no one expected.

Then… nothing.

7:39 p.m.

A young man, standing at the center of it all whispered the time, his hand resting over the quieted heart beneath his fingers - the place where he had waited, hoping for one more rise, one more beat, before the silence settled.

I stood, front and center, feeling the pulse, the compulsion, the release as emotion washed over the room.

I closed my eyes and leaned off the ledge.

I felt myself start to fall.

As I began my descent, I knew I had broken the barrier. I was warmed by the cheek I rolled down, the warmth a reflection of a father’s hug. The eyes I fell from closed in grief. Though tired and hurt, she held strength for those around her.

My fall started a cascade of emotion, those I spent the day with following my lead.

I was the first tear to fall.

The grief that followed me was all‑consuming. As I traveled down her face, she leaned into the comfort around her. In that moment, a truth became known:

the strength this family held would guide them, even as they learned to live with the loss of their father.

I was the first tear to fall. I wasn’t the last.

For every tear that followed, we knew we had our purpose.

We would hold the memories with care.

I recalled the story of a grandfather playing with his grandchild - the memory fresh as I flowed away from sad eyes. We held those memories, us tears. We would carry them with us as we fell. We would spread that love and memory for all of time.

He would live on with this family in the stories they told.

He would live on in the connections they tended.

In the love they gave.

They held each other close and reached outward, knowing they were not alone. All around the room, we fell - tears from all who gathered to say goodbye this day. This man would live on as his children created and grew.

Tears fell as cleansing rain and healed hearts because of the love and care instilled in this family - and many like it.

Memories live on long after bodies return to the earth.

My place was only important for a moment, but I proudly held on to the memory I carried.

I am Glimmer.

The first tear to fall after the death of a father and patriarch - the head of an amazing family who stands together to keep each other strong.