I think, as I contemplate Ron’s picture, that there was a first time for Patrick when he must have felt the weight of that moment. A frozen second in time when he felt himself step across that border that separates the everyday world you and I inhabit in our busy, half-conscious way, and the private world where you witness a life being changed, irreparably and forever.
There is a pinpoint of time when the shutter clicks and the subject of your photo lets you take the shot because you both know the story is bigger now, bigger than either of you, but there is something else in that look. Something that says, “Watch closely girl, this could be you. This is you. There is no safe distance for us here.”
I slept peacefully the night before the walk, nestled in sheets fresh from the line, the crisp night air wafting through the window left slightly ajar. Patrick tapped on the door and whispered that an owl might visit outside my window. He wished me a good night, chuckling that he couldn’t believe he was going to share a bed with his mom. They had given me the room in which he had been staying.
Though none of us ever said it, it had also been the room in which Sue has slept during her last separation from the man who now will stand trial for her brutal murder.
I slept peacefully. It was another in an entire weekend of incongruous events. Somehow, in the midst of this tragedy, I felt so welcomed by every member of the Weiland family it was like some strange family reunion. I was profoundly comfortable in their presence from the very first moment. The love they have for each other was palpable and they widened their circle to include me without hesitation.
The morning of the walk, Patrick was in full swing, doling out t-shirts to us adorned with a haunting sketch of a wolf Sue had drawn. The back of the shirt emblazoned with the “Remembering Sue Weiland 1966-2006.” We donned our shirts and bustled around grabbing apples and water, blow drying hair, grabbing extra sweaters in case the weather shifted.
It was a glorious autumn day at the peak of fall color in an idyllic country setting. We could have been going on a hay ride or to a pumpkin festival. But we weren’t.
We were walking in memory of Sue to raise funds for the Turning Point Shelter. Mary and Ron Weiland, Sue’s parents, were each to say a few words before the walkers set off, marking a new chapter in their lives. Before August, they were parents. Parents with grown children all trying to make their way in the world, albeit with various degrees of success and a few wrong turns along the way. Parents who knew something of both pride and pain. But today, they were the leaders of a team, Team Weiland.
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