End of an Era

Sitting in a restaurant in a small South Bohemian town, my friend looks down at the phone. A text message has come through: Vaclav Havel died.

Fragmented memories flood my mind, but I can't piece together a coherent image of the man. I read this New York Times article to help connect the dots.

A dissident. A playwright. A movie-maker. The first president of the Czech Republic. The moral leader of a people coming out of occupation.

I look up at my friend, and while I realize what for me is an impressive biography of a fully lived life, for all those around me, it was bigger than that. It was the death of their Kennedy. It was an end of an era.

We jumped back in the car and drove the two hours to Prague. Back in the capital, we went to the places that made sense: the places where the people of Prague gather in times of trouble and joy; the places that are the soul of the country.

At both Wenceslas Square and the Prague Castle, images of Havel were on display. Flags were at half mast or swapped out with black cloth. Air was cold but thick with grief. I stood at the fringes of the monuments, an outsider to this collective mourning. And I watched as person after person came up to light up a candle for the man who gave light to so many others.