The Vigil

When an adult cries in public, it’s a pretty moving thing. Not just at the movies, either, or at a wedding when it all gets just a little too much, but when a grown man or woman dissolves into gut-wrenching sobs, I defy anyone not to be moved.

The only places you’re allowed to be this emotional are hospitals, courtrooms, airports, churches and of course – funeral homes. Here, it’s ok to lose your stuff. People look on with sympathy, or respectfully avert their eyes, allowing you your moment to grieve.

But most recently I have seen some very normal, very cool people cry like little children – in normal, everyday places. In local cafes on consecutive days, shoulders heaved, tears flowed, and hearts broke. There was no effort to stem the flow or choke back the tears. No effort to regain equilibrium, no waving of the hands in an effort to apologise to witnesses.

As a friend, what can you say? I couldn’t soothe them by giving it the age-old “there there”, and tell them that it’s all going to be ok, because being a mere mortal, I’m not in possession of the kind of foresight to make such assurances. All I could do was offer hugs and be there for them.

The morning after I had witnessed the second grand outpouring (9:15am, popular coffee shop) the winter sun was shining beautifully, and an endearing image popped into my head. I imagined myself sitting outside a window in that sunshine, soaking up the good feelings, and sharing the moment with a friend. However the friend in question is not next to me in the sunshine, but in the darkened bedroom behind me with the curtains pulled closed to block out the light.

A beautiful winter’s day is so pure, so rare and so appreciated, that to block it out feels almost criminal. But that’s how black it can be for those caught in the long, dark night of sadness. The prospect of the stunning sunshine failing to cast any light in the world of someone in such desperate need of it was particularly moving.

So the refrain for the song popped into my head. “I knew for you there would be no end to this long and lonely night.” The knowledge that there’s nothing you can do or say to help may seem unempowering, but instead, what it does is relieve you of any pressure to fix things. All you have to is be there, and be yourself.

“When I came to see you there was winter-sun on my face.
It was a beautiful day to be breathing, believing in goodness and grace.
But my knock on your door went unanswered, the curtains were shut down so tight.
I knew for you there would be no end to this long and lonely night.

So I sat down outside your window, remembering when you last smiled.
I sang you old songs in the sunshine in the green grass growing so wild.
I said me a prayer to the heavens, I put a plea out to the light.
I knew for you there would be no end to this long and lonely night.

And if there’s a good in the heavens, with all your mercy and with your sight.
See this black flag in the window and make everything all right.

The sun disappeared around the corner, the shade left me chill to the bone.
I knew that I should leave you, but it hurt me to leave you alone.
And then came the man from the cafe, bearing soul food and flat whites.
Because he knew for you there would be no end to this long and lonely night.

And as the shadows gave way to darkness, there was nothing we could do.
So we waved blindly at your window, and took our leave from you.
Tomorrow someone will be hear, until the darkness steals the light.
Our hope for you is that there will be an end to this long and lonely night.
I hope my friends is that there will be an end to this long and lonely night.

And if there’s a good in the heavens, with all your mercy and with your sight.
See this black flag in the window and make everything all right.”

So, for anyone keeping a vigil, or anyone for whom a vigil is being kept, this song is my offering to what you’re going through.

R