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At the cemetery, Fr. Steve spoke some beautiful words of comfort,and while one of Colin's favorite songs (a song by Raffi) wasplaying, Claudia let go of her balloon. The rest of the familymembers did likewise, followed by the others present. As we thenlooked up into the bright, blue sky, we could see 200 or so colorfulmessages rising up into the heavens. It was quite a sight and quite amoment. I could hear sobbing all around me, and I heard people sayingthings like "Goodbye, Colin" and "He's yours, God. Take care of him."The moment was powerful; it was a catharsis.

A woman at the cemetery gave Claudia and me each a big hug andthen told us that her daughter, a former student of mine, had notbeen inside a church for years and had sworn never to step inside achurch again. She also had not spoken to her mother in months, butshe was at the funeral because of us. She had been so moved by theceremony that she had come up to her mother at the end, hugged her,and said, "Mom, we have to talk." Little St. Colin was already atwork!

Another former student of mine called the day after the funeraland, among many other things, said, "Mr. Willis, I hope you are notoffended by this, but I actually had a good time yesterday."Obviously, he got the idea.

A retired teacher told me that he and his wife were so moved bythe service that they decided an element was missing from their livesand that, even though they were in their sixties, it was never toolate to change. He said they were going to start looking for a churchcommunity to fit their needs and to which they could contribute. Theywere "unchurched" at the time.

My next door neighbor, Dick Jennings, a man nearing retirement,said, "You tell that priest of yours that I have not spent much timein churches, and the few times I have, I get real nervous after about20 minutes. I looked at my watch near the end of the funeral, and Ihad been there almost two and a half hours and hadn't realized it.You tell your priest that."

Colin has touched many lives, and he will continue to do so. Italk about him in all my classes (both high school and college), andthat leads to great philosophical discussions about how we treatpeople who are different, about suffering and how to grow fromit and not let it destroy us, about the role of friends in our lives,about sacrifice, about love, about "you name it." I have also spokento various church youth groups (Catholic, Presbyterian, and Lutheran)about Colin, and with them I have talked about how important faith isin dealing with such a loss.

Speaking of faith, on the morning of the funeral, Claudia'sfaith was being seriously tested. Our belief systems can be shattered(or strengthened) when we encounter suffering. She had been Colin'sprimary caregiver for seven years. Her life (and, in many ways,identity) had been wrapped up in Colin, and then he was gone. That morning, whileshe was walking around alone outside, she said, "Colin, let me knowyou're okay." Just then, a butterfly landed on her shoulder. Call ita miracle if you wish; call it a coincidence if you wish. I don'tcare. It happened, and it was wonderful. She now sees butterflieseverywhere she goes. In fact, about six weeks later, while we wereattending a Giants-Dodgers game at Candlestick Park in San Francisco,another butterfly paused in front of her for a time. What was abutterfly doing in the bleachers at Candlestick? Actually, thebutterfly is the perfect image for Colin. He was a cute littlecaterpillar, crawling all over, and now he is a butterfly;butterflies are free. The symbol is most comforting.

I have one sister, Lynn, and one brother, Robert (nine years olderthan I). He is a psychotherapist and his wife, Pat, is the curator ofrare books at the Beinecke Library at Yale. They live in Connecticut.A few hours after Colin's death, I tried to call them but reached ananswering machine message that referred me to another psychologist.He then informed me that Robert and Pat had just left for vacation inCanada. By the time we finally tracked them down, it was just beforethe funeral, and Claudia told them that we had plenty of support fromfriends and other relatives and that they should not come to thefuneral but instead should visit us at Christmas time when we couldhave a real visit. A week or so later, we sent them a videotaped copyof the funeral, and Robert then sent us the following letter.

Dear Claudia and Jim,

 

We got back home just before noon yesterday. Among the carton fullof unessential mail, we discovered Colin's video. We watched -- or,should I say, tried to -- this morning. If Pat's sinuses weredripping before, she's flooded now.

Thank you for sharing the celebration with us. It's a rareprivilege to be part of such love. My heart ached for you all, but italso swelled with gratitude. Colin couldn't have been blessed withmore life than he enjoyed with you, his brothers and sister, yourdear friends. And how could any community of faith have been moresupportive?

Your taking special to mean miraculous, Jim, seemsso true. That good-bye to him brought out the best from a race ofhumans not always marked by compassion, creativity, and selflessness.I don't know as infiltrator isn't better than spy.

I was especially touched by the place kids took throughout. Mostoften death leaves them out. But they need to say "so long,""thanks," and "remember when" too. And they have a right to know intheir hearts that death does not mean abandonment nor "good-bye,""I'll forget." I was thrilled by the balloons they sent aloft, filledwith spirit and alive with color: just like Colin. And I suspect hewould have nothing to do with a dour God. I could well hear him agreewith Zarathustra: "I should only believe in a God that would know howto dance," and "How many things are possible! So learn to laughbeyond yourselves! Lift up your hearts, ye good dancers, high!higher! And do not forget the good laughter.

I was thinking about the gifts that were brought to thealtar. So often they lack what his toys are: presents from lovedones, presented to one loved, which make each present to the other,in a present that widens and stretches and never passes on. A momentof mutual touch creates a soul and molds a heart in the birth of aneternal hello. Presence remains simply present. Chronos bowsbefore a greater god, Kairos: the former is empty, if flashing; thelatter has fullness and body that have wonderful lasting power. Oh,how I love the reddest of roses!

I spent an afternoon thinking about and talking things over withColin. He told me about his last night and the hard choice he had tomake. He so much wanted to dance! I assured him that you desired thatfor him too. I also said I'd pass on to you what he decided and why.He didn't want you to think that he was abandoning you either.

Pat and I would like to join you, say on Thursday, December 26, toshare a toast of celebration. What a dance is being danced . . .

Love,

Robert

The paragraph about his conversation with Colin was so comfortingto Claudia, but I was naturally skeptical. Robert has special powers,and he is able to go deep within himself through meditation and leavethe boundaries of time and/or space. Don't ask me how, but he doesit. The next time we talked on the phone, Claudia said, "Well, Iunderstand you talked with our boy." I got on and said, "Now, Robert,you know I'm very Aristotelian . . ." He laughed and said, "Do youmean did Colin and I have a conversation the way you and I are havingone now? No, but we had a conversation." I have no reason to doubthim.

He also included a poem he had written, inspired by hisconversation with Colin. Every time I read this poem, I burst intotears, and yet I also find it very comforting.

 

Colin's Choice

 

His room from sleeping blackness bursts alive

In dancing flames as rainbow lights appear.

They flicker, wheel, with jingling laughter dive

Before his breathless eyes. The dancer near

His ear begins to speak: "Hello, I know

Your silent plea for legs to run,

Wide fields to roam. Come, my friends will show

You dances, leaps, vast heavens full of fun."

The child laughed, then sighed: "I cannot leave

My family; they warm my heart." A flame

Of love then jumped in him. "I do believe

They share your life's desire; they wish the same."

The sparkling figure beckoned, "Follow me

Across bright meadows, your playful spirit free!"

His Uncle Bob

August 1991

Dan Sapone pointed out to me shortly after we received Robert'sletter that the poem is a Shakespearean sonnet -- 14 lines, iambicpentameter, rhyme scheme of a, b, a, b/c, d, c, d/e, f, e, f/g, g.Not only is the poem inspiring. It is also carefully and lovinglycrafted!

 

Claudia and I spent many hours trying to find the right thing toput on Colin's gravestone. We looked in Oxford's Quotes, Shakespeare,wrote our own tributes, but nothing seemed quite right. Finally, wefound the perfect words. And they are the last line and a half ofRobert's poem, "Follow me across bright meadows, your playful spiritfree!" Those words not only apply to Colin, but they could be hisinvitation to the rest of us. Near the words, engraved in the stone,is an image of Colin, thick glasses and all, sitting on the lap ofJesus. Overhead is a butterfly. Claudia was the creative force behindthose.

This past year has been very difficult for all of us. Everyfirst has been tough -- his first birthday since his death,the first Christmas, the first Easter, this first anniversary. Thereis the saying that "Time heals all wounds," and I suppose it is true,but in some ways the sense of loss has seemed to increase throughoutthe year. I guess that's the price of love. The year has beenespecially tough for Claudia. Taking care of Colin was heroccupation, her vocation, for almost seven years, and now he is gone.She has much more free time now, of course, but there is anaccompanying guilt that goes with that. She will begin her junioryear of college (at age 44) next month (September of 1992) at CalState, Hayward, and we all hope that it will be a rewardingexperience for her.

By the way, when an obituary appears in the newspaper, it oftenincludes the mention of a favorite charity to which the family wishesdonations sent. Claudia came up with a marvelous idea for Colin'sobituary.

Kaleidoscope is an activity center in Dublin for handicappedchildren. We have set up a scholarship fund there for poor,handicapped kids who otherwise could not afford to use the center.The principal ($2,016.98 as of 5/26/95) cannot be touched, but theinterest is used for such scholarships. Most of the money, by theway, has come in $1 or $2 donations from students of mine. It makesme very happy and very proud that because of Colin, many poor,handicapped children are able to have a good time. That is justanother way that he can live on forever.

Colin Willis Scholarship Fund
Kaleidoscope Activity Center
3425 Larksdale Avenue
Dublin, CA 94568

I could go on and on about Colin, but it's time to close. I hopethat my writing this encourages Claudia, Erin, Robert, Corrigan, andKenon to do the same. Because my mother died when I was 16 and hadbeen very sick most of those years, my memories of her are very, verydim, and I have to rely on others (my sister and brother primarily)for their memories and insights. I am not going to let that happenwith Colin. I have written this to you, my little bud-bud, and aboutyou -- lest we forget.

 

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