Requiem for a Writer

This is a place I never expected to be, a story I never expected to live so soon. The morning after my parents called to tell me my Aunt had died, back in January, I started writing. This is the eulogy I couldn’t bring myself to offer as we sat at her funeral…

One of the greatest Superman stories ever written, Kingdom Come, finds the Man of Steel in retirement. Clark Kent is working the farm after the passing of his parents, John and Martha, and his wife Lois Lane. It’s a beautifully orchestrated tale of the Last Son of Krypton donning the cape and tights to save the world, one last time. I love comic books, but living them is sometimes awful. I’m living part of this story because your husband is Superman and you, his Lois Lane. Seth and I? The sons you never had. You loved us so much and part of me is gone until our paths cross again in Eternity. This is what it is to follow The Way. No one I know was closer to Jesus than you. No one I know heard the voice of the Holy Spirit like you did. 

Not so long ago, on a couch not so far away, I asked you something even my parents couldn’t answer. I asked about the first time I saw Star Wars. The tale you told was of a toddler enthralled. In 1984 and I was two years old. Still spending time in and out of the hospital because of sickness and Cerebral Palsy. But that Friday night, in my parent’s living room, I was somewhere else entirely and you witnessed it.

That began more than three decades of talking about Star Wars and story; comic books and characters; Marvel and mythology. Few have formed and forged that part of me like you did. The comic books I love most were given to me by you and Clark just days before I endured a hospital ordeal I shouldn’t have survived. It’s the story of a teenage boy who nearly perished but for the angel who defended him against the forces of darkness. My favorite novel of all time – This Present Darkness – I started reading as I sat with you at the bookstore.

All that time and talking finally reached a new level five years ago. I started writing a book manuscript you edited. For years, I sent chapters about heroic origins, overseas quests, adventures in dangerous places, confronting calling in places of ancient exile and lamenting both love and deep loss. My story, our way. The joint dream we had of seeing these words go unimaginable places, remains unfinished. I don’t know when I’ll pick up the pen again. I know I have to. It’s what you would do, it’s what you’d want me  to do. Thousands of your words live in me now, and the world needs them.      

Posted on by Aaron in Uncategorized

About Aaron

Author, Speaker, and Super Nerd. Aaron Welty speaks and writes regularly connecting the dots of life, faith, and science fiction. Originally from Michigan, he now lives and works in the Washington, D.C. Metro area.

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