Dad is here for a few days.  He doesn't like to swim, in fact he nearly drown this summer leaning over to get his cell phone that had fallen into the pond.  Head first into the water he went.  No one saw him and thankfully his head didn't hit one of the many large rocks that border the shore there, or this could be a very sad summer indeed.  He managed to get himself back up, and it was then that someone looked out one of camp's windows and saw him sitting on the dock soaking wet, pretty shaken up.  He hasn't been a great lover of water for years now, so this wasn't one of his best moments I'm sure.

I did manage to get him to remove socks and shoes, roll his jeans up and sit down on the edge of the pool deck and stick his feet into the water.  While I floated on my air mattress we talked about old days, old friends and old shoes.  Mostly he talked, and if I did, his part of the conversation would be many "what?"s with me repeating what I'd said.  Still .. I've tucked that memory safely into a compartment in my brain (and heart) that I can pull out when I especially need to and be glad we had that day.

When he's here he goes through his old photos and papers that he keeps here .. again.  He comes downstairs and hands me things, or asks me if I "remember this" and passes me a photo of years ago.  This morning he brought the album of he and Mum's 50th anniversary the year before she left us, 2002, and shows me a picture "was I really that bald?"  Yup, you were Dad, and Mum had you comb those hairs over your head for years.  I love that he's stopped doing that and has soft white fuzz on top of his head now.  I'm afraid if Mama was still with us, he'd still be "combing over".  Sorry Mum, the only GOOD thing about you not being here.

I miss her.  Sometimes so longingly it hurts, but mostly with a dull ache in my heart that I can ignore because of all the joy I have in my life.  It's when I want to ask her something, or share something or think about how much she would love her great grandchildren.  Then it isn't so easy to ignore.  She would so totally enter into my joy.  Daddy tends to forget what I just told him 10 minutes ago .. or less.

Two things Dad brought down and left on my desk.  A poem that dear Murhl Howland gave him years and years ago.  Written on the back it says "some verses to put in your bible to read at times"   Murhl is blind now and near the end of his long full life.  Loved by more people than we know.  He was in his prime when he gave Dad that poem, and Dad was most likely in the early years of being a husband and father.

The other item is a poem I wrote in October of 1992.  I think back .. I was 31.  Still so young with no idea what lay ahead of me in the next 22 years.  Briana was 10 and 1/2, Ashley just 8 and George only 4.  Babies.  That was yesterday wasn't it?   I write poems when something touches my heart and soul.  So I wonder what it was that made this poem come to me.  Perhaps I'd reached an age with my three children that I realized just how important parenting is and how much my parents did for me.  Perhaps I got a glimpse that the day would come when I could give back a little bit of what I'd gotten. I hope Daddy can tell I do remember and love him so much for all he did as I was growing up.

So here they are.  I will share them both with you.


"When I was Young"
To Mama and Daddy
10/28/92

You were there, a solid pair to comfort and protect,
I took from you so easily and you gave as I'd expect.
A mother first, my friend indeed; a chore became a game.
A father, true, you made me proud; you never sought for fame.

You led me through those tender years and taught me all that's good.
I took for granted love like yours, but now it's understood.
The little things that meant so much, you did them all with ease ..
I never knew the sacrifice, the time spent on your knees.

The tears you shed, the fears you felt, you hid them from young eyes.
I only knew the warmth of love, support in all my "tries".

My Dad, you'd do most anything to make our play more fun.
And Mom, you filled the rainy days with rainbows one by one.
The kitchen warm with baking the ice all cleared of snow.
Picnics and adventures on a road we didn't know.

"Going through the porthole" taking off my Daddy's boots,
stories told by firelight, all these make up my roots.
Volleyball on summer eves, those days I can't forget.
Parents who will enter in, the lucky few will get.

 Now I'm a mother learning still of what it takes to be
unselfish, kind and honest; these things you taught to me.

You were there, a solid pair who held the standard high.
The path you chose, each step was clear you didn't "just get by".
You were there a solid pair, the need was always mine.
Now I want to give to YOU my heart, my home, my time.

I love you,
Kelly


Poem shared by Murhl Howland and kept in Dad's bible for years now.
("some verses to put in your bible and read at times")

"I Understand"

Hast thou been hungry, child of mine?  I too have needed bread.
For forty days I tasted naught till by the angels fed.
Hast thou been thirsty?  On the cross I suffered thirst for thee.
I've promised to supply the need.  My child, come unto Me.

Perhaps thy way is weary oft, thy feet grow tired and lame.
I wearied when I reached the well.  I suffered just the same.
And when I bore the heavy cross, I fainted 'neath the load
and so I've promised rest for all who walk the weary road.

Does Satan sometimes buffet thee, and tempt thy soul to sin?
Doth faith and hope and love grow weak?  Are doubts and fears within?
Remember I was tempted there by this same foe of thine,
but he could not resist the word nor conquer power divine.

When thou art sad, and tears fall fast, My heart goes out to thee.
For I wept over Jerusalem, that place so dear to Me.
And when I came to Lazarus' tomb, I wept; my heart was sore.
I'll comfort thee when thou dost weep, when sorrows are all o'er.

Do hearts prove false when thine is true?  I know the bitter dart;
I was betrayed by one I loved.  I died of a broken heart.
I loved My own; they loved Me not.  My heart was lonely too.
I'll never leave thee, child of Mine.  My loving heart is true.

Art thou discouraged in thy work?  Doth ministry seem vain?
I ministered midst unbelief with them, midst greed and gain.
They would not hearken to my voice but scoffed with one accord.
Your labor is not in vain if done unto the Lord.

Have courage, then, My faithful friend.  I suffered all the way.
Thy sensitive and loving heart I understand today.
Whate'er thy grief, whate'er thy care, just bring it unto Me.
Yes, in thy day of trouble, call.  I'll remember thee.

The sun is bright, the air is cold
my eyes are tired, my bones grow old

It's looking like a beautiful day .. I have to squint to look out at the (still) snow covered lawn.  Which reminds me I need to go open the front door and let the heat that is trapped between it and the glass storm door free so I can enjoy it, feet curled up beneath me, one foot falling asleep, one knee starting to protest "we're too old for this".

I hobble to the front door, because my foot did fall asleep and is sending needles up my ankle, open it and feel the heat hit me, close my eyes and can almost imagine summer when I will go sit on the front steps with my coffee until I'm so hot I have to come back inside.

I'm content.  I look around me and see what nearly 25 years in one house has brought about .. one huge stuffed elephant slumped against the newest chair in the room, newest but not most favorite.   My favorite chair is the retro orange (upholstered by my mother in law years ago) chair that inspired all the other spots of orange in the room.  Who knew 20 years ago I would have orange in my living room?  Oldest daughter Briana is delighted.  I let her paint the bathroom, she and her siblings used, whatever color she wanted and found out years later that she hated it once it was done, but didn't dare admit it.  Not a great shade of orange, but we lived with it for 8 years.

Looking beyond this room into the kitchen I see the tulips hubby brought home to me.  Yellow tulips, the color of sunshine.

I think I will bundle up and take a walk in that wonderful sunshine.

I love Elephants.  I really do.  I love their enormousness, their voluminous ears and those incredibly large brown eyes.  And, they have an amazing capacity for love in that big elephant heart of theirs.

That being said, the "elephant in the room" ? .. not so much.  It takes up a LOT of space (air) and good grief let's just acknowledge it already.  My tongue hurts from biting it and I lose control now and then, forget that I'd promised myself I'd keep my mouth shut, and ask a question about said elephant, only to be met with silence.  It's not like it's a bad elephant either.

Then again, it's not like I have to be in the same room with it.   I think I'll just keep that door closed.  Maybe I'll lock it so I never go there again.  Yeah .. "that's the ticket". 

Just when you think

Just when you think you have it all figured out ..

You're feeling comfortable in your skin and things seem perfectly aligned, in their nooks and crannies where they belong ... or where you think they belong because you like it that way, and you're walking along feeling good about the world ..

something shifts.  You can almost hear the tumblers ..

It's not that it really affects you all that much. It's like a little rowboat floating peacefully alongside all the others tied up at the dock.  Then something bumps it (ever so slightly) and it turns just a little bit, enough to set all the other boats rocking .. which in turn, causes the inevitable ripples.

Now your skin doesn't feel so comfortable anymore.  It has nothing to do with you, but things are just a little skewed and off balance and your head feels a little odd and your stomach a little knotted, and you know you just have to put your deck shoes on, walk upright and hope no one can tell you're feeling seasick.

Because, before you know it, things will realign, you'll be stuffing new nooks and crannies and thinking you have it all figured out again .. for a season.

"Good Bye"

I stood there .. watching him breath .. in .. out .. in .. out, and wiped the foam that had formed at the corner of his mouth away.  His son, before leaving, had told him it was okay .. if he had to go somewhere while he was away.

I thought we had more time, perhaps another day, a night .. but his breathing suddenly changed and there was a long pause .. I told him he could go, it was his turn, his time, he'd served well and filled his place .. finished the race.

Another breath, another pause ... and then "he's gone now" from the nurse.  I sobbed.  With relief?  Sorrow ... joy that it was over for him, sadness for those who loved him most.  And then I thanked God.  How perfectly he'd gone.  Home to rest.  How we are blessed.

This wasn't my first "death" but  this one was one I had prayed for, not just for him, but for his son who was so weary it broke my heart to watch him.  And now it is done.  I can't believe there is no longer a need for me to wipe his face gently, smooth his blankets, tuck his feet in, kiss his forehead .. but I do, one more time.

His grand daughter arrives not knowing her beloved grandfather is gone, this man who was one of her best friends, who had opened his home and heart to her during a time when she expected it least .. this man she took into her home for weeks at a time and loved and cared for him the way not many grand daughters would.   I have to tell her.  This being more difficult for me than the death.  I have to place those words into her ear as I hug her  .. "he's gone".  She collapses, this tall niece of mine, and I hold onto her and gently lower her to the ground.  We sit on the driveway while she sobs and my heart splinters into little pieces for her, wishing so much I could take her pain away.   No, it can't be.  Don't let it be.  Let me say good bye.

Not long before his best friend arrives, someone else to tell who loved him so, a woman who helped us so much during those last weeks, someone who would miss him more than I ... and lastly his son, the man I love, the one who cared so lovingly for his Dad the last 2 months of his life.  It is done. It is done!  He races up the stairs and sees him lying peacefully on his pillow the way nurse Betsy and I had arranged him, so he looked as though he was just sleeping .. still.   He's thankful, so very thankful it's on this bed in this house that this great man, his father, took his last breaths.

Old man, I loved you .. you lived in our house and took away our privacy, our oneness and I was not happy at first, at the thought of sharing my husband, my home with you.  But a hand laid something on my heart, thank you God, and I could not bear to have you finish anywhere but home.  Our home, your home now.  It was just a few short weeks that we had you here.  Weeks I'm so thankful for now.  And thankful for a oneness that is stronger than ever because you were here.

Yes, I loved you more than I ever thought I would, and you loved me.  Your silly, unorganized, unladylike daughter in law, so not like her mother in law, and yet .. you loved me . and I thank you for that.  I'm so glad we got to say those words before medicine took away your ability to.  But then the squeeze of your hand told me so and the look in your eyes.  You asked me once "how do you know?"  when you couldn't get all the words out.  That is how I knew .. I hope, dear old man, that I helped make your last days the best they could be so you knew too how much I loved you.

Funny the things that come to mind as you're driving along .. words that pop out of no where, or maybe it's the wind blowing out all the cobwebs that have collected between your ears in the past couple weeks.  And oh does that wind feel good.  Tossing my hair every which way, windows down, sun roof open in my Trail Blazer as I head into Rockland to do a "chucks and wipes" run.

I took 2 semesters of Creative Writing.  I loved it and the first semester we learned LOTS of vocabulary words.  Words that I imagine I've forgotten but were drilled into my brain, their spelling and their meaning.  I was good at memorizing back then and always got 100% on vocabulary tests.  I know I wouldn't do so good if tested today.

I'll be writing something, or talking to someone and a word pops out of my mouth or onto the paper and if I'm asked what it means, I'll feel a little timid about answering because I'm really not sure where it came from or if I'm certain I know the meaning.  99% of the time, when I look it up, I'm relieved to discover I had used it correctly in the sentence. 

I'm sorry I can't remember my Creative Writing teacher's name, it must be in there somewhere, along with all those other words drilled into me.  I would thank her, wherever she may be, these 35 years later.

Moments

Feeling a little frazzled I'm thinking of my pillow and the man who will be laying next to me lightly snoring. The past few days have been a whirlwind of kids and grand kids and I almost want to hold my breath so I can stop time and capture it all and relive each amazing moment.    Each. Moment.  I think of the years of moments I've had.  Even the not so amazing ones because there are so many more of those.  Moments suspended in time.  Moments that if possible I would take down from a shelf and hold them next to my heart and relive how I felt .. eagerness, tenderness, giddiness, sheer joy or even desperate sorrow.  Moments that have made me who I am.  I'm 51 now and there are moments I wish I could do over and do differently but it's too late and it's okay.  I'm tired and it's time to go climb the stairs to that lightly snoring man .. he will stir and roll over and wrap an arm around me and tell me he loves me and I will feel so very thankful for moments that are mine to treasure, hold onto tightly or to let go ..