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Date: Friday, 27 May 2011
Inside the home of Josh Konnely, the whole place is in complete darkness. Only the sound of soft sobbing make it known that anybody is there inside.
For a moment the sobs stop, but then start again more loudly.
"Luz. Luz. Why? God, why would you take our Luz away?"
Again the room goes silent in the darkness.
"Light. She was so perfectly named. Warm, beautiful and radiant. A shining star in every way.
On December 11, 1986, God gave sent down to Bridgeport an angel by the name of Luz. An angel of Light. On May 24, 2011, He called her home. My heart breaks for her family and her friends who knew her better than I.
I entered J.M. Wright Technical High School as a freshmen in 2001, still living in the darkness of depression and still grieving my father's death. I remember a sophomore girl with blonde highlighted hair and hazel eyes that usually appeared golden green. She struck up a conversation about ages, and she was amused that several freshmen- including myself- were older than she was.
It was the first time I remember speaking to Luz, and over her final three years of high school we would chat from time to time on the trains or at the stations. Though I never knew her well and wish I had, I feel blessed to have known her at all.
Luz came into my dark world and her light gave me comfort and peace."
There is a scratching noise and then a flicker of orange light as Konnely strikes a match. The glow grows brighter as Josh lights a single white candle. The flame illuminates his face, stained with tears.
"The Connecticut Post is reporting that she was upstairs taking a shower when her boyfriend opened the back door to let the dog out. Two men armed with guns then rushed into the apartment, and a scuffle ensued. One of the invaders fired off a shot which went through the ceiling, and struck Luz in the abdomen.
How horrible a fate that such an improbable sequence of events should end such a beautiful life? A single errant bullet just happens to reach the exact spot where she was standing? An absolute tragedy.
Today I am back in the United States, back in Bridgeport, to attend the funeral for this angel gone home. Bangkok can wait. What Dreams May Come? None will come for Luz, and no dream can comfort those of us who knew and adored her."
"Luz, beautiful angel of Light... descanse en paz. Requiescat in pace. Rest in peace."
Konnely quickly runs his index finger back and forth through the flames as he speaks. When he says "peace," Josh grabs the wick between his index finger and his thumb, symbolically snuffing out the light of the candle.
"Ar dheis Dé go raibh d'anam dílis."
Fade to darkness.
Date: Friday, 26 May 2011
Josh Konnely- or, more precisely, Kyle Johnson- arrives at the funeral home accompanied by his mother and sister. Kyle is wearing a navy blue dress shirt and black Puritan pants. He holds the door for his mother and sister, then follows them inside. His sister Kerry signs the guest book, followed by his mother, and lastly Kyle signs his name (as Kyle Johnson).
Once they get to the front of the line, Kyle's family steps back to allow him to go ahead. Luz's aunt and sister stand with an arm around each other, crying. Kyle wordlessly holds out his arms and embraces them together, as the others before him had done. Although he tries to stay composed, his eyes begin to fill with silent tears. When Luz's family releases him, he steps around and procedes towards the back of the room.
(Switch to first person.)
I then hear my mother explain something which I had not felt had to be said.
"Kyle went to school with Luz." she says.
"I know he did." Luz's aunt Carmen responds.
I glance back, feeling something warm in my heart. Did Luz's family really know and recognize me? Without the long hair and beard? I had never formally been introduced to them. Apparently her aunt had seen me and had some idea who I was.
I continue walking, not really seeing or thinking. As I start across the back of the room, I feel a hand grab my hand and hear a soft, strained voice.
"Kyle."
I turn to my right and see Christine Guzman, a classmate for two years at Wilbur Cross and four more at Wright Tech.
"Christine." I say, my own voice strained by the swelling in my throat and the tears in my eyes.
"How are you?" she asks.
"I'm great." I reply softly. Even as the words escape me, I find myself wondering why I would say that.
She holds out her arms, and I hold her in a tight embrace. Her eyes and mine are moist with tears, and we hold each other for moment, finding small comfort in the arms of old friends. Although we haven't seen each other in six years, we seem to need each other in the midst of such tragedy.
After a few long seconds holding each other close, we pull away and I turn to the woman next to her: former social worker at Wright Tech, Amy Cimino. Miss Cimino and I share a hug as well. She pulls back away to speak to me.
"It's so good to see you, Kyle," she looks over to the front of the room, where the white casket sits. "Not under such conditions, though."
"Yeah."
We drop our embrace, and Miss Cimino introduces herself to my mother. I look at Christine, and she looks so beautiful even though her face is wet with tears.
"Do you want to sit behind them here?" my mother asks.
"Yeah, let's."
There are three empty chairs behind the three occupied by Christine and Miss Cimino, and a man I don't seem to recognize. I step aside to let my mother and sister sit, then I take the seat behind Christine.
As we sit there, a few more members of the class of 2005 come in and join us in that back corner. At ten o' clock the service officially begins. The funeral director introduces the clergyman, who asks us to rise to pray.
My body trembles as I feel a sudden chill run through my body for a brief second, which passes just as suddenly as it came.
It is said that ghostly spirits need energy to manifest themselves, and that they can take the heat energy from a person or place to do so. Is this Luz standing once more among her Wright Tech family, I wonder in silence as the minister says his prayer.
Following the prayer we are seated and the minister reads the obituary which was run in the Connecticut Post and on the chapel's website.
"Luz 'NaNa' Morales, age 24, entered into heavenly rest on Tuesday May 24th, 2011, in Bridgeport.
Luz was born in Bridgeport, CT on December 11th, 1986 to Lucy Coriano and Hector Morales. Luz was very happy and vibrant and enjoyed singing and dancing. She will always be cherished and deeply missed.
Luz was the oldest and is survived by one sister Jeannette Morales, one aunt Carmen Rivera-Torres, one uncle Nino Coriano and her boyfriend Abimael Ramos."
Moments later, a young woman reads from the book of Romans. A few of the words in particular catch my attention and move me.
"Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."
I find comfort in these words, and I am impressed by the power of the statement. It is so easy to desire wrath and vengeance when a loved one's blood is shed by violence, but what is easy is not always right.
One of my classmates says goodbye to me, and I shake his hand.
"Take care, man."
Moments later, another former classmate- Virginia Hernandez- has to leave. Ginny says goodbye to me and kisses my cheek.
Before I know it, the service is over and the funeral director welcomes everyone to mingle again while they prepare to bring the casket out for the procession to the cemetery. My mother, sister, and I make our way out after saying goodbye to Christine and Miss Cimino. My head is in a bit of a fog as I walk out the door onto the familiar sidewalks of Park Avenue.
Fade to black.
Luz Damiana Morales December 11, 1986 - May 24, 2011
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