Yellowriter

I just finished a dad duty.  One of the things that never goes away is the need to be there for your kids.  Natalie, our oldest, needed my wife, Annie and me this week.

The news story of the tradgedy of Annie Le, Yale student and bride to be was a national headline over the past three weeks.  All one has to do is pick up a paper or turn on the news to view the latest in senseless violence.  Most of the time we sigh, pray and turn the page or the channel.  The story of Annie Le didn’t leave the memory as easily because she was my daughter’s friend and roommate.

I was with my friend, Bob F. Schmid, in Washington D.C. when the first call came in.  We were moving toward the Jefferson Memorial as Natalie told me that Annie was missing since the day before, just five days before her wedding.  These are the times you wish you’re close enough for a hug - we had to settle for cell phones.  The FBI had been called and a frantic search was on for the 90 pound Vietnamese woman.

I met Annie Le when I moved my daughter to Connecticut.  They shared the third floor of an old brownstone in New Haven.  The place had three rooms and the third room has had three tenants, but Natalie and Annie were still together as roommates when evil came to call on September 8, 2009.  Annie had an infectous smile and a wit and wisdom seldom seen in young people today.  She looked like a child to me as she stood only four foot eleven inches.  We went for coffee, unpacked and spent one day out to lunch at “The Educated Burger,” a must-do in New Haven.  It makes me ill when I think of her never getting the chance to share that smile or insert that rolling laughter.

I suppose I will always see Annie Le through my daughter because she truly changed Natalie’s life.  My daughter was always a loner and for everything she possesses in Einstein-like mental powers, she lacks in social skills.  I guess I should say lacked because Annie completed Natalie in so many ways.  Through Annie’s proding Natalie went shopping, tried new restaurants and went to parties.  She even went on a date that was Annie’s idea of a set up.  With John, Annie’s husband-to-be, the three made an odd couple plus one.  Natalie never felt like a third wheel around these two fun loving young people.  Annie planned to continue to room with Natalie even after she was wed to John because he will continue his education at Columbia in New York City while Annie was to continue at Yale.

But continue she did not.  The prayer vigil on Friday night is lengthy and goes into the evening a couple of hours.  It is mostly in Vietnamese so I read the faces and gather impressions from body language.  The mother and father are divorced and fail to make eye contact with one another.  The uncle and aunt who raised Annie and her brother, Chris, conduct themselves with quiet dignity and grace.  Many words are said, but I study their faces.  A great uncle speaks, the lines on his tired, tear stained face speaking volumes.  I did not know the words, but I hear the language of a broken heart.

The funeral the next day is long and it is hot at the grave site.  The beautiful flowers on display are torn apart and each person is given a token to leave on the casket as a means of bidding goodbye before the casket is lowered into the earth.  The weeping claws at my spirit like a physical presence.  The aunt, nicknamed “Flower” is escorted away in a state of grief that no actor in Hollywood could ever capture in a role.  I steal a look at the old man in his suffering.  I don’t know how, but I can actually feel his pain.  My body aches as we walk across the steaming grass toward our air conditioned van.

I tell my daughter that life goes on, but part of Natalie was lowered into that symmetrical hole in the ground, never to return.  Annie gave much and took a little with her.  I’m only trying to be a good dad.  I don’t have the right words; no one does.  In the end we must trust God, for all other roads have a miserable dead end.  I’m sorry for all of you who were touched by this fine young woman because you have lost a great deal.  We all have.  Annie lost the most so we won’t begrudge her for taking a splinter of our life joys with her to heaven.

My last thought is for Jonathan Widowsky.  He showed us the photos that were to be part of their wedding collection, now only memories.  I marvel as I look on the wedding band he wears in anticipation of a splendor that will elude him.  He speaks English, but does not need to use such a crude device to show me his state.  I learned a new tongue that day and I suppose I have Annie to thank.  God’s speed, child of the nation - you will be missed.  If there is any doubt just look into the eyes of Natalie Powers.  It is there you will decipher the language of a broken heart.