The Beginning of the Fade

We trim the coffee filter, my daughters and I, making long strips out of the round, folded and thin paper. The paper of this filter, and the strips we produce from it are perfect for out experiment. The are foldable, bleached white and the paper is so permeable a single drop of water will sink I to it and expand, moistening a large portions of the filter. Following the instructions from Mr. wizards Supermarket Science, each girl takes a marker and colors a dark dot on one end of the filter strip. Then, I take one of our Mickey saucers, fill it as best as I can with water and place it on the table before us. One by one we dip the unmarked portion of the marked strips in water and lay the marked end on the dry portion of the saucer. Now, we wait.

Over the last few days it seems many people with varying levels of closeness to me have ended their wait. They have, for what ever reason, been removed from the Earth. First was my employees Mother, a woman who, in some ways, she lost twice. Second, came my wife's Aunt Judy, a loss which has been particularly hard on my Father-in-Law. Most recently, one of the women of our church, who I am the deacon for, lost her father. All unrelated, but each a cog in the machine of my thoughts.

First, the water crawls up the strip of paper until it reaches the colored dot. Then it looks like nothing at all happens. Nothing. But, this doesn't last. In a minute or two the dot looks blurry. We step away for a while, because as experiments go, it is not hugely rewarding to sit here an stare. Blurry dots don't make great tales. Anyway, in perhaps a half hour, we return and the scene has completely changed. The markers have all reacted a little differently, but similar in some ways. The dots have become strips of color. One starts true to its color, but then fade to a yellow before disappearing all together. Another stays true to the tint, but fade quickly. Yet another fade across the long strip and finally the color mingles with the water, impacting all the other strips. You have to look hard to determine where the fading ends, living only the color of the filter. it is also hard to make out where the dot originally was, where was the beginning of the fade.

My employee made a comment when she returned to work how she told her son, out of routine, to call his grandmother. He looked at her, not sure what to say. It broke her. It revealed the truth she couldn't accept. In a hospital room, this is that moment when the breathing stops, but it has been so shallow for so long you mind creates phantom breaths. It is the conversation opt the funeral which uses he is, instead of he was. It is seeing you loved one in a crowd, even though they can not be there. You would think this line would me much clearer, but it is as hard as seeing the beginning of the fade.

Not all of this fading line that exists after life is just confusion, some of it is filling the void the vibrant colors of their life. I think of my grandmother and how much she still, so many years later, becomes a topic of conversation when we talk about small churches or play scrabble or see any of her siblings, who still miss and love her. I think of my cousin, who died so young and left such a hole I became friends with people who were her friends just to feel like she is still a part of our lives. These odd bonds are valuable because they are a reminder of that colorful life lost.

What are you going to do with your dash? I have heard at least a few pastors and people quoting pastors excess these sentiment. The idea is a good one, that you had no control over your birth, your stopping point on earth is your death. So, if you are looking on a tombstone, you are somewhere in your own dash. What are you doing with that little time you are allotted? This I think is too limited. The truth is, you don't only get your dash, you also get, to some degree, the fade which follows. You, when you go, will leave a fading trail behind you.

When the experiment was done, we got to talk a little bit about osmoses and why it works. We talked about why the make up of the marked would sometimes cause it to fade a different color. We talked about why some markers seemed to set in where they were, but didn't leave much of a trail. We got rid of the strips and washed the saucer. This was a few years ago now and I wonder if someday they will do this experiment with their own children.