THANK you to each of you who have made it here today, and those viewing from elsewhere to help us celebrate Solomon’s life. Whether you knew him directly or as an extension of my wife and I, your presence warms our heart knowing his existence somehow impacted your life.
To all the family and friends that have been holding vigil over us these past few weeks, whether in person or through thoughts and prayers, we would like you to know that your actions have been life saving. In Isabel’s and my depleted state, you were our Sentinels; surrounding, and protecting us from darkness and despair as we work with God through our grief.… the outpouring of our community support has been immense, calling you all by name would be imprudent because so many of you have been working behind the scenes, eliminating distractions, doing coordination, meals, ecttera. I would however, like to acknowledge our parents, my mother Dalia, her husband Joseph, and Isabels parents Hector, and Angie. The only thing I can imagine worse than mourning the loss of a child, is to watch your child suffer in agony while you are helpless to end it. Daily, they have tended to our sustainment while maintaining composure in our immediate presence.
We are in awe of the genuine love and generosity on display from everyone in our community…; it is all a definitive rebuke to the selfishness consuming the world today. Our deepest heartfelt thank you is all we can offer in return. Each of you in some way have contributed to the formation of the story and words we are sharing this evening.
I ruminated for a week over the best way to share Solomon’s memory today. I started annotating a list of personality traits, and a series of “I remember this one time” scenarios of our beautiful boy. Regularly pulling away to necessary distraction to regain composure, commune with a friend or family member, and grieve with my wife. I returned to a list of what seemed to be a trite, unauthentic, word salad lacking any depth in meaning that truly Honored Solomon’s impact on our life.
Then I remembered some words of one of my favorite authors, something he shared over a podcast or video, not quite sure I remember the specifics, but essentially, he was describing the Bible as a library of stories. Divinely written “Super-true” narratives that provide the foundational structure for our Society. Stories are the way civilizations exist and grow, they are the necessary method for communicating that which is of greatest import. With Solomon embodying that very thing for us, I felt perhaps that the best way I could honor his memory, was by crafting an artful narrative that collectively told Solomon’s story on behalf of his whole family..
Yet even that iterations of Eulogizing him fell short.. Although charged with his stewardship here on earth, Solomon’s story was not solely mine to tell. His Mother, and grandparents have shared with you his beauty and Divine impact on them in their own images and words. Images that perhaps reveal a small snapshot of the face of God speaking through Solomon’s words and actions. As his father, I will try to Honor him the same way, to share his memory, and have him carry on in your hearts, as he lives in ours.
Keeping Solomon’s story focused exclusively on him, and not our grief, proved more challenging that I thought. Solomon didn’t invent anything, or cure any disease; as much as we longed and daydreamed about his potential to do so. In the end, his story really is about the lives he touched from his infectiously kind, curious, stubborn, and innately loving personality. Two of those traits, he inherited from his father, curiosity and stubbornness, and two he inherited from his mother; curiosity and stubbornness.
If you were one of the 6 million people in Atlanta on 8-31-2021, and you looked up into the Atlanta skyline, you were witness to Solomon Ramon Ballester’s welcome to this world. Through some compassionate work of another parent and friend, Symphony tower, the iconic “King and Spalding” building that dominates over the Midtown skyline, illuminated bright blue in honor of his birth. The flattened parallel spires extending up into the sky, were a visual depiction of his parents elevated hands lifted in gratitude for the gift they prayed for a year earlier. Neither his mother nor I, prayed much on bended knee these days, but on our wedding night, we did so to ask for a child. It didn’t take long for God to answer. Solomon was loved immensely before he was even conceived.
Our perfect little Boy continued to show us God’s majesty. At 10 months in his Mother’s womb, and face up in the birth canal, Solomon was not coming out via traditional methods. The miracle of modern medicine gave us a 9 pound 10 ounce boy who wouldn’t remain a delicate infant very long. It seemed to his Mother and I that we snapped our fingers and we had a nearly 3 foot tall, 18 month old toddler that defied his father’s curse of diminutive stature. “He would be a giant!” I remember telling myself, blood test came back negative for hereditary Napoleon Syndrome.
Solomon however was just like every other child conceived out of love. His mere presence and innocence snaps life immediately into focus. Sure, a parents love for their child made sense to me on a superficial level, but neither of us were prepared for how monumentous the transformation was in our hearts. We were blessed with the lack of concern that young parents often have, we have everything we needed to provide a comfortable home. We could live and love him without worry.
The pragmatic side of me obsessed over the minutia of preparing him for this world… We named him Solomon specifically as a reminder to us to pause when imparting life’s lessons on him. To be mindful of maintaining a sober, perspective on the world. To understand the connection between the domain of Facts vs the domain of Values, simply put, there is that which is so, and that which aught to be so, and we wanted to be intentional of helping him walk that line of reason through faith. I felt it was a gift to show him love, strength, and perseverance.. to provide guidance and encouragement when he began his Hero’s Journey, however God might Manifest that in his life.
Through his short life, Solomon lived every moment craving our presence and love. The authentic joy he expressed during our morning routines, is seared into my mind. Our challenge and responses of “dah dah,…. dah dah,” back and forth, while just outside of each others view; would grow louder and louder,… I can hear the excitement and anticipation escalating in his voice. Our faces mirrored identically pure happiness when I’d finally pop around the corner…. it energized me with a strength I couldn’t describe.
In those mornings, most mornings in-fact, Solomon and I would hold an embrace for what felt like an eternity. Two to Three Minutes in reality, but you get the point.… In These moments came the most important revelation about Solomon for me, that our bond as Father and son was mutually dependent. Sick, angry, tired, exhausted, frustrated, scared…. it never mattered, Solomon was instantly at peace once I lifted him into my arms… each iteration of embrace softening my heart and peeling away the calluses of apathy and cynicism developed over the last thirty years in my distance from anything resembling a relationship God. The moments he clung to me would imbue a burning sense of responsibility, love, and gratitude. Feelings that at 45 years old, it wasn’t too late, I finally found my Divine purpose in this world; Husband & Father. We ended Solomon’s days similar to how we started them, an embrace followed by a fist bump and a kiss after reading our favorite book about a little nut-brown Haire and his Father proclaiming their love for one and other. Isabel and I would repeat often to each other, how absolutely perfect Solomon was, and that we were the happiest family on earth.
Beyond his needs for shelter, guidance and protection, Solomon was my Buddy. His preferred method of travel, was mounted on Dad’s shoulders. Up and down, up and down; Solomon would crouch into his “Spiderman pose,” squatting down with arms swept aft, and leap 5’6” into the air (with a little help of course), drop his legs around my neck, and clasp his hands around my forehead… He sat perched atop the world fully engrossed in the moment, “Ooohing and Ahhhhing” at every natural wonder under the sun, It seemed that this was the only activity that could keep him still. He never grew tired of those moments.. I would dump him on the couch, or loveSac in the living room, and seconds later he’s beckoning again for another ride. I am grateful that he rarely allowed me to reject those request for play, and for the escape Solomon provided in those moments before and after work. Solomon was fully engaged in the moment; every time we wrestled, danced, or played, my boy was 100% present.. not weighed down or pre-occupied by the worries of the world, economy, politics, work, or aging. His peaceful innocence was an escape, an escape ultimately from what are distractions to true happiness and joy. Solomon wanted to be nowhere but right where we were. One of my few regrets was not always shutting off my mind to just meet him mentally in the moment. He was trying to teach me something in those moments, as cliche as it may seem, to appreciate the time you have with your loved ones, make sure the living you are doing, is for the ones you love, not at their expense. His unconditional love taught me so much gratitude.
One of our last experiences together was divinely similar to one he shared with his mother. Solomon and I seemed to almost switch roles. Like a Father might do to his son, he grabbed me by my temples, gently pulled my head down into his lap, and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. A process he repeated 5 or 6 times. He hadn’t done that before, I recalled verbalizing to myself, awestruck at how genuinely beautiful his soul was. Perhaps this was his unique and touching final farewell the day prior to us leaving for Puerto Rico.
Although we were blessed to experience it daily, Solomon shared his joy with everyone he met… Now this, I am certain, he did not get from me… our young boy never met a stranger, he greeted men women and children with fist bumps in the grocery store, and said “so long” at the park with blown kisses. Just an innate nature of genteel kindness to strangers. This natural state of being eliminated,… for me anyhow, any mystery of why innocent souls like his have a straight shot directly to heaven. You could see it in his eyes and actions, evil did not exist in him, he hadn’t yet developed the capacity for it.
For those of us no longer ignorant to it, tragedy always seemed to be a far away thing, something that only exists in the scripts of books and film. Even in the hospital, his passing initially didn’t seem a real possibility. The details about that part of Solomon’s story are for another time. As my wife indicated, Isabel and I were where God intended us to be, to protect us from our own individual tortures and agonies. Solomon passed away in the hospital, under the care of medical professionals befuddled by what ailed him. Today, we still have no answers; and we are coming to terms with the fact that it wouldn’t provide much comfort even if we did.
Our miracle boy drew Isabel and I closer to God, I felt a calling to be better, but arrogance, hubris, and impenitence kept my complete surrender at bay. Character traits hardened and developed over a lifetime of trying to control my environment, and the world around me. I’ll get there I thought… Perhaps tomorrow, or when Solomon starts asking questions. After all, outsourcing his teaching about God’s Grace to our Grandparents, and his Angelic Nanny was working just fine. There is always tomorrow,… until there isn’t.
Losing our sweet, innocent boy, was a knockout blow. Any illusion of Stoic control or self mastery was swept away in an Instant. A delusional fool is replaced by a helpless lump of defeated flesh with static clouding the mind. To let go and accept that We can’t know all the mysteries of God’s path for us, and meaning, provided little comfort at this point. Any attempt to ponder and rationalize why, “Why Solomon? Why Now? Why did MY child have to die?” is a futile process of reasoning one’s-self into Oblivion and Despair. Perhaps the better question came to me last night from Reverend John MacArthur in his book “Safe in the arms of God”:
Quote: “What Now?” Turn the grief to action, from loss to healing, from sorrow to joy>> from feeling of utter devastation<<< to feelings of purpose. “Why?” is a question that keeps a person looking backward time. “What now?” is a question that moves a person toward the future.” End quote.
So indeed… “What Now?” Rail against God? Castigate everyone involved in his passing? Allow the Rot to sink in and sulk in self loathing and anger for the next 50 years, or perhaps some timeline drastically shorter? Not a very dignified way to leave Solomon’s legacy and honor his memory.
Perhaps instead, stop.. breathe, put one foot in front of the other, step by step,.., Stop trying to boil the ocean and control ever aspect of things we can’t even begin to comprehend. Let go and surrender our hearts to God’s unknowable design. Sometimes feeling compelled to out of necessity for emotional, mental survival, and sanity; sometimes feeling so out of hope and faith. Isabel and I are praying for the ability to somehow integrate this grief into our existence because right now, we lack stability in our processing of the absence of Solomon. Fortunately, the strength and conviction of my wife’s Faith, time, and the protective armor of love and compassion from you all has seemed to dampen the magnitude of the emotional swings from Hope to Despair and back. You all have shouldered what you could for us, and we are forever grateful for your actions of community and prayer. Another beautiful impact of Solomon’s existence and mark on this earth.
I’m not sure of how Solomon’s story continues, but I like to think it carries-on something like so.. Solomon opened his eyes like he did the day prior. Clumsily rolled to the side, sat upright, and cued in on a figure a few feet away. Solomon places his belly toward the edge of the the hospital bed, swings his feet to the ground, and begins his Jack Sparrow style Jog toward the figure. In a growing Halo, Solomon recognizes a kind towering figure and extends his fist up at an angle to greet the man. The kind man kneels down just about eye level with Solomon, fist half extended, and exchanges Solomon’s signature greeting. He chuckles, pauses, and places his own injured hand on Solomons unusually broad shoulder. He admires Solomon for a few moments in silence, taking in his curious expression, unruly curls, plump cheeks, and big brown eyes. The man knew Solomon, and he knew Solomon was good. The kind man lifts him up placing the boy chest to chest with him and they exchange a warm rhythmic squeezing embrace,… Solomon's cheek resting comfortably on the mans shoulder. The kind man finally speaks to the boy, and repeats a joyful phrase he similarly refrains to children, women and men that he knows. “Well done my good and faithful Servant! You have been faithful in this thing; I will put you in charge of many things, Come and share your Master’s happiness!”
Perhaps the kind man continues; “My sweet boy, I have a fun activity for you to do today, I bet you’re gonna love it!” he says. Go, sit on your father’s shoulders again, make your presence known. Wrap your palms around his forehead, lean aft to keep his shoulders back. Place his eyes on the horizon and be vigilant for him. Call out his familiar threats and temptations of pride, arrogance and cynicism, and any other danger that may make him stumble. Whisper “Dah Dahhh” to him in the mornings like you always did, so he can start his day with the embrace of reading my Word to strengthen his understanding and resolve, and eliminate doubt. Let out a curious “OOOH” when you hear the Robbins singing in harmony in the early mornings outside your parents bedroom window. Point to the horizon on a clear morning when he is flying, and the incredible view of the sun cresting in the distance. Help him pause and appreciate the majesty of my glorious creation. Lean over toward a stranger in distress to shift his weight in their direction and remind him to show compassion, because he is not very good at that. Every time your mom wants to be held in the morning on your Father’s rush out the door, show him your Spiderman pose… you know he could never resist that and he will take the extra 10 seconds to share an embrace. Lean down and kiss him on his head if he’s spending a little too much time swiping through a social media feed, or playing a game that distracts him from his NEW divine purpose… the divine purpose he originally envisioned for you.
For your mother, press your cheek firmly against hers when she wakes up in the morning, squeeze her rhythmically, She tells your father often she actually feels it when she thinks hard enough. This will shake her out of her grief and give her the strength to begin her day. Remind her to say ” Buuuh Bieyye” in your falsetto tone… to her best friends when they hang up a phone call. They will share and relive the unspeakable joy of your presence in an instant.
While your mother walks outside, blow the neighbor’s Japanese cherry blossom petals off the tree so she can feel your sweet breath, and stir through the wild Southern Magnolia bushes in the back yard, so she can inhale your equally wild curls on an early summer afternoon. Point out all the similar majestic images of my creation to your Mother, so she can share them with your Father when they get home from work in the evenings. They will rejoice in knowing how very busy you were throughout the day.
When they come here to grieve for you at your final resting place, Point to the familiar birds and the bumble-bees that always captured your attention to remind them of my Glory, and that I am only good. That no man or woman can begin to comprehend why I make things so or how I execute my grand design. If they sulk excessively in your absence, Ask them “What Now?” to remind them to take take diligent inventory of their thoughts, words and actions, remain repentant and stay in communion with me. Because, like King David’s Son with Bathsheba, You will not return to them, but through my Grace alone, they shall come to you. Let the fruits of their new life, the example of their love for one-an-other, and of you, call others to my table. Remind them of this. That is your new Mission Solomon, that your memory give strength, wisdom and perseverance to your parents. Since you pleased me so much with how well you softened their hearts, the hearts of other family, and all the strangers who had the fortune of knowing you on the other side.
We love you Solomon Ramon Ballester, it is an honor to call you our Son.