blurred light

It was during a church service in late October of 1728 that Andrew first really cried for his brother. He remembers the year and the time of year because it was the year that John Franklin purchased his farm and Andrew helped manages his initial harvest.

The church service that day was not particularly moving, and the day was not surrounded by other days that were particularly trying. There really was no reason why that particular day or that place or any particular action made him think of Harry. But he did and he remembered it vividly for the rest of his life.

Andrew sat in the same place in church where he had sat his entire life. His grandfather helped build the church a generation ago and chose where to place the window he donated and he chose to sit beneath it every Sunday with his family, so Andrew’s father grew up under the window. When he married and had children of his own, including Andrew, he continued sitting in the same pew every Sunday. Now Andrew and his wife and daughter and her husband and children sat in the pew beneath the window every Sunday.

During the sermon, Andrew looked at the window as he had so many times and was overcome that his brother, Harry, would never see that light again. A small thing, so common, now gone forever. The reality of the loss overwhelmed him. He remembered his eyes tearing up and the window becoming blurred and the colors running together and that he cried the rest of the day.

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