Life of Wry

Today was both light and dark. We started the day by honoring David Breaux’s birthday.. by handing out free pieces of Boston Cream Pie — his favorite cake as a kid — at Compassion Corner. Afterward, we took the leftover cake to Paul’s Place, the new (ish) homeless shelter on H Street. The celebration brought out dozens of people who loved David and supported his life’s work of spreading compassion. Both the 90-minute gathering, and the time spent at Paul’s Place were affirming and loving.

After that… ugh. It was the first day of the preliminary hearing for the upcoming murder trial of Carlos, the kid who killed David, Karim, and attempted to kill Kimberly nearly a year ago. The trial proceedings are starting all over again, following the restoration of Carlos’ competency to stand trial…. sure I documented all that before. We are back on track after many months off, during which Carlos received the treatment he needed, following the psychotic episode that led to that horrific string of stabbings last April.

The hearing will take place over several days and is basically an evidentiary process to establish sufficient cause for proceeding with a trial. We will hear all kinds of grim details about the murders. It was nice to start the day on an uplifting note.

Here are some pics from the morning:

Here is something Maria posted today about the celebration… I thought it was lovely:

I didn’t notice, until someone pointed it out, that David and I look similar in this photo taken at his birthday celebration at the Compassion Bench. We share around half of our DNA—go figure.
I’ve been thinking about that, sharing DNA. For sure, it means having a certain number of physical traits in common. When you combine this with growing up in the same house, you have a potential nature-nurture fit. Still, we all know or have blood relatives who grew up with us who don’t share much in common in terms of personality, temperament, or worldviews.

David and I were soulmates. Often transcending words, we had a tacit understanding of each other. We were on similar paths for a while until I chose a relatively traditional route and he devoted his life to raising awareness of compassion, moving more deeply, as time went on, into his purpose.

Still, above all else these last few days and going forward, I’m understanding just how powerful his mission was and is, and honoring those parts of us that aligned so easily, ones I now treasure and know I can’t live without: compassion, an openness to deeper meanings and connections, and an unshakeable optimism.

So, you see, when David, in his deep silence, lived so loudly, so vibrantly, so consistently, that life—that light—can never die. One starts to notice that light everywhere, like in meeting someone in person for the first time, or having a beautiful encounter with a stranger, or giving out free dessert on a sunny day, or lying in the darkness of a spare room someone provided for you in their home. Or billions of other moments that represent a life, most getting lost to time and fragile memory.

It’s noticeable in the tens of thousands of people David interacted with, many of whom shared his story with others, making an orders-of-magnitude impact. It’s there in the stories that have been in the news and talked about since his death. It’s at the corner and it was in the courtroom, despite the tragic, difficult details we heard there.

The physical David is gone, but it’s impossible to kill compassion. All of that light, all of those connections—whether they’re DNA or otherwise—echo even more loudly.

~~

And here is a picture that Carrie Dyer gave to me at the celebration… a photo taken nine years ago at another birthday celebration for David at our house! I was so glad to have the photo, as I had not remembered the event.