Eulogy on the Passing of a Comet

from a speech by Barry Boone (given at the Regina Press Club)

In the world of the astronomer, the most celebrated radiance in the heavens is the comet, that stately brilliant visitor that fans a world with it's bright passage and is gone. Science and the soul both are in awe of these lights that move through the fixed and familiar firmament we know. Some of these heavenly bodies return like treasured relics, the memories they leave are mixed with the memories of others who have seen the same cosmic dance generations before. But then there are the single moments of scintillating purity that are the unique passage of these messengers from the heavens that fall into the embrace of a beckoning sun, never more to be seen and all the more poignant for the end of their radiant journey.

Such was our own radiant Corina Ling-Raleigh.

I will not dwell on the end of her life journey, but on how this most bright of lights gave a message that lit that fading star field that was our hope and future. The snuffing out of that redeeming light must not be the end of her story. Everywhere we see the signs of the Spring of our hearts this passing star heralded. They are the scrawled paean of "Corina lives", the reclaimed buildings of Old Port, and anywhere those she cared most about make good the promise she made us make to ourselves - together we will make a better future. We can only wonder how she would have loved to have seen that future with us.

But, like that singular heavenly wayfarer, she will not see the healthy child cured by a follower of science inspired to look beyond the now into the should be, she will never hear the songs her light has awoken in our breast, she will not be there to see the good we will do for each other and ourselves guided by her light of hope. The better place she left will belong to us, to care for in the days from now when memories are more real than the beauty that fell into our hearts forever.

Let us make that place worthy of the memories she gave. Let us not wear black or white for mourning but red for blood spilled for hope, red for the eyes that wept for the future’s birth, and red for that never flinching strength whose aching labors have built that shining promise of what should be, out the darkness that was.

Let us wear red for our fallen star.