Bernie's beautiful energy

Margie has been missing her brother Bernie. “He was such a love. He always looked out for me, shielded me from my mother. We used to toss pillows around in the apartment, and he made me laugh. There was something wonderful about being around him. He could talk about anything, he was so easy. He made people feel good about themselves. Did you know him?”

I told her I feel I know him, from hearing her talk about him. But he died before I was born.

She was dismayed. “Really? But that means…. You’re… I don’t mean this in a bad way,” clearly she was trying to find words, “but you’re not young, are you? So that must mean I’m very old. How old am I?”

Ninety-eight. 

“And when did Bernie die?” 

“He died in 1943, and I was born two years after that.”

“How many years ago was that?” 

Of course I know my own age, but Margie's disbelief gave me doubts, so I got out my phone and checked the calculator to be sure. “Eighty-one years ago.” 

“No! It can’t be. I mean I believe you, but I can’t…. I know I was 16 when Bernie died, and 1943 doesn’t seem like such a long time ago. I remember it like it was last week. The thing is, people leave their mark. People have something. I guess you call that energy. That … energy is who they are and it’s all around them, you can feel it. After they die, that energy is still here. It never goes away. It’s the mark they leave on the earth. Bernie left a beautiful energy behind him. I’ve been missing him so much.”