Last Poem To My Dad

My Dad's favorite place

Fort McHenry

Psalm 46:2 ~ Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;

I cannot stand...

I have our heartfelt memories

Stored inside my heart

I cannot stand and watch you

Being slowly torn apart.

There is a soft wind blowing

A fragrance in the air

Heaven calling out to you

I cannot stand to bear.

I cannot stand and watch

The lighthouse falling down

Brick by brick dismantled

Without its shining crown.

I cannot come and be there

To stand right by your side

I’m in the best place for you

And that is right inside!

I stand along the shoreline

And watch your light go dim.

I see the angel’s calling out

In a radiant glorious hymn.

I love you, Dad!

The Box

“Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

The Box

It came without fanfare it came without ribbons and bows but it was the box that I was anxiously waiting for with memories of my father. It looked like any other box that comes in the mail, all wrapped in brown paper and taped beyond belief. I had quite a hard time getting into the box and it smelled kind of funny.

My mother had been building on my excitement the entire month when she said what was going to be in the box (minus my necklace) that still to this day has not been made ready by the funeral director!

This season has not been an anticipated season and to be honest, I’m quite down. I lost one of my favorite aunts in the beginning of the year and just last week I lost one of my favorite uncles, AND I lost my father at the end of October which is kind of putting a damper on my celebratory Christmas spirit!

My concern lies with my mother who is a brave ol’ soul enduring a lot and being a comfort to my aunt, her sister, in her time of need. Friday, the day of the funeral, I was supposed to go see Steven’s family and when Thursday came, I told him I just couldn’t do it in all good conscience. I was down and didn’t want to say anything that I’d regret. I couldn’t wear a mask and pretend all is right with the world when my world was crushed, my heart broken and my spirit in a quite stir.

My days on Facebook have halted for a spell because it is full of cheer and happiness. Can people REALLY be all that happy? It’s possible but I don’t know, I think they wear a mask over their sadness and make the world think they’re all happy as a horse. It could be my own sadness seeing things that aren’t there and that is totally possible too because I’m in a serious funk!

The box – it lifted my spirits on a day shadowed in death; it arrived. There was some good news and… some bad news. The good news was that it arrived! The bad news is that the Old Bay seasoning that my mother sent had been damaged, meaning in transit the lid popped off and splattered all over everything. The m&m bag was split open (shut up Benning) and Steven was a sport (the m&m’s were for him) ate for the first time Baltimore seasoned m&m’s!

She had put in there the funeral cards, some pictures, three lighthouses (for Adam), and two seasonal throws, one for me and one for Steven. They certainly gave new meaning to the SEASONal blankets, covered in Old Bay. Mind you that Old Bay is hard to come by out here in the midwest and that is why she sent it to me from Baltimore, land of the crab lovers.

Then my most prized possession that I was awaiting, the binoculars! These binoculars have sentimental value beyond belief! My dad acquired them from the shipyard he worked at over 40 years ago and they have been everywhere; Ocean City, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Florida, and of course Maryland. My dad treasured these naval binoculars.

I held them in my hand, while dusting off the Old Bay, and could feel my dad’s hands wrapped around them. I put my eyes to the peepholes (ouch) and just a little burn from the Old Bay but they were here, in my hand, in MY possession! Every child in my family wanted these but they were the first thing I asked for when I got the sad news my dad had passed.

After the arrival of the box, my mood swung from happy to sad and then happy then sad. I was and AM on a roller coaster of emotions and I want off! I felt sad that I had turned down a visit to see his family but in all honesty, it was for the best. We all walked away happy and that is truly what I wanted.

Now onto Christmas…

“Welcome, Christmas, bring your cheer. Cheer to all Whos far and near. Christmas Day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp. Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we. Welcome Christmas while we stand, heart to heart, and hand in hand.” Dr. Seuss,  How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Shine On

Prov. 30:5 “Every word of God is pure: he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him.”

SHINE ON!!!

I will be the first to admit that this year has been a struggle to shine on in a world full of darkness. It began in the beginning of the year when a cloud overshadowed the month of January in the form of death, a beloved aunt.

Death is never an easy thing but it was especially hard for me since I couldn’t be back home with my family. I would muddle through the trenches of guilt, shrug off the feelings of incompetence and embrace the Light of the Lord as my strength to get me through yet another of life's crisis’.

Crawling my way out of the mire I saw a glimmer of light in the form of engagement then marriage. The feeling was so bright and felt so warm and good I thought I myself had died and been wrapped in Heavenly arms. 

The month of May would pass and the glimmer of light would dim; it would die a slow death in and of itself. I should have (maybe I did) know that this year wasn’t going to end well when the voles in my yard tore into my garden of flowers and destroyed them with what looked like hurricane force.

There went my Hollyhocks, my Zinnia, my Salvia of five years, my Bleeding Heart, my precious mums etc. etc.; the list goes on like Nebraska farmland. The bright side came to me when I thought, oh well there is always another year to come, but is there? I went on knowing my flowers were all dead for the season and I saw a little light in the beauty of a facebook friend who has an endless show of flowers; a smile, a glimmer of hope in this gloom.

Throughout the year my dad’s health was diminishing. By October he would be hospitalized and he would suffer a slow agonizing death. Again the guilt circled me like a vortex in the middle of the sea drawing me in and drowning me with no way out. I fought, I clawed and I searched breathless for a ray of hope. There was none to be found. 

Thanksgiving would come and I’d have to find a ray of light in the impending Christmas spirit, right? Wrong. The lighthouse of my life was gone; the pillar of strength that I looked to was out to sea sucked into the vortex. Left behind were fragments, souls and dread.

Last night when talking to my mother, she informed me that my uncle had three days to live. We cried as the rain pelted on the door and the winds rampantly blew. He had been battling cancer for years and it seemed licked two years ago when his ‘port’ was taken out and then it resurfaced with a vengeance. He is her sisters’ husband and as of today, 12-14-15 I got the dreaded phone call that I knew was coming…he died. Cancer is what sucked him into the vortex called death. Cancer is what will cling to my cousins and aunt around Christmas and for years to come. Cancer has eaten too many of my relatives. How do I fight such a dismal prognosis? Maybe with the only Light that I know; the only Light I trust to get me through these dampened darkened days?

Then there’s the celebratory feasts that we’re obligated to attend. We were invited to his mom’s house on Friday the 18th. We had to sadly decline because hubby has to work a long day, but we were guilted into going by his sister. You know how families have that guilt trip stuff down pat! Who cares that you’re mourning? Who cares that you’re not in the mood to celebrate? Who cares that you’re not as happy as everyone else? Point blank: NO ONE!

Maybe it is what I need, to be surrounded by a family that actually loves one another. Maybe I need to see people laughing and enjoying the season. Maybe I need to be a part of a Mother’s wish in seeing all her kids together. Maybe it isn’t about my whining and ME. Maybe the season is about LOVE and seeing others happy. 

Maybe I’M the Light that they need to see shining through overcast skies.

MAYBE… I need to take up drinking again. (That was me trying to joke my way through pain!)

May God Bless you ALL and may YOU be a light shining on for someone to see!

2 Sam. 23:4 “And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain.”

A Not So Merry Christmas

Job 17:7 “Mine eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, and all my members are as a shadow.”

Well yesterday I wrote about people being offended by the term Merry Christmas, but today I’m going to write about the not so Merry Christmas. When I was younger I had joyfully wished an older woman a Merry Christmas. She blurted out, “It’s not so merry to me, I just lost my husband.”

I almost cried because I in no way meant to intentionally hurt her feelings but how was I to know she had just lost her husband? I know we don’t mean Merry Christmas as a bad thing but to others who are mourning a husband, or grieving the loss of a child or who are just alone at Christmas with no family, to them it is not a ‘Merry’ Christmas. We need to be sensitive to them, not because we want to be politically correct, but because we need to have a compassionate heart for people and what they might be going through during the Christmas season.

If someone was to wish me a Merry Christmas, I’ll just nod my head and say thank you and wish them one but only I know that this isn’t going to be the merriest of Christmas’ for me, it just isn’t. I’m definitely not going to blurt out, “I just lost my dad, what’s so merry about it?” 

My husband lost his father over twenty years ago and the death of his dad isn’t as fresh to him as the death of my father is to me. I’m not minimizing his loss in any way but he never talks about his dad or the love that they shared, it’s just a mute point. He still has his siblings and mother to share the season with and I have no one. I have his family, I know, but understand it just isn’t the same as hugging MY mother in her time of need.
My mother is back home going through the days of loneliness without me there and it is going to be a very sad Christmas for me not being home. This will be her hardest Christmas ever.

I’m not trying to bring anyone down with this post, by no means. I want to see people happy and celebrating the season for all that it is; a joyous season. Just because I’m not going to be decking the halls and prancing around singing Ho! Ho! Ho! doesn’t mean that you, if your truly happy, shouldn’t be celebrating the joy of the season.

This will be the first year that I write a solo poem for my mother for Christmas and I already told myself that it isn’t going to be a sad one that will have her crying and missing my father and also missing me being there. Nope, I’m going to try and write a sappy, funny limerick to make her smile! I’ll share it with you, my readers and see what you think of it before sending off, assuming I get it done in time. 

My mother already sent a ‘gift’ for Steven, Adam and myself but the real gift will be ‘The Box’! The box I am anticipating like a kid waiting for Santa. The box will be filled with memories of my father and just a couple items that he treasured. I long to hold a piece of him in my hand one last time, to allow the aroma of him to sink into my nostrils and know that he touched the items and loved them. It will be a tear-filled day for sure.

My mother was waiting for a necklace with my dad’s fingerprint on it to put in the box, which she bought from the funeral home, but it wasn’t ready so she’s sending me the box anyway and will send the necklace at a later date. She bought one for my sister and me, and my brother bought her one with my dads ashes in it that will be worn close to her heart where my father will always remain. 

So there IS some joy in my season yet to be had and that is feeling my dad close to me as I sit missing him. While many of my siblings are dealing with guilt of not knowing my father as well as they would have liked, I don’t have that guilt because in my heart I know we had a special father/daughter relationship where I told him I loved him, frequently when I called home. My last words to him were, “I love you, dad!”

Pss. 69:29 “But I am poor and sorrowful: let thy salvation, O God, set me up on high.”

Tis the Season...

Half of my collection

John 4: 23-24 “But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him.

God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”

I haven’t written since Thanksgiving and we’re well on our way to the most blessed season of the Christian life. While Thanksgiving came and went, as much as I felt thankful I was also riddled with grief. 

I’ve heard over and over how grief fluctuates and I’m no stranger to grief but have never grieved in this magnitude before. Yes, I lost two children and grieved immensely but I didn’t let the grief take hold of my life and I made some semblance of a life after their deaths. 

I knew my dad was very sick and I tried to prepare myself for the ending but like a good book, we never want it to end and always hope that there will be a sequel. My only hope of a sequel with my father dying, is knowing that he is basking on the shores of heaven and the sequel will rise when I join him. 

Thanksgiving was more than grief for my father; it was a longing to be home with my mother who is fighting her own battles of moving on in an empty home where the two of them shared their days on a 24/7 basis. She is now lonely holding emptiness in her hand and I long to be there to comfort her in her time of grief.

December 2nd was Christopher’s birthday and I came to the realization that I am the mother of a thirty-three year old son, had he been allowed to stay here on this crazy planet. I find solace in knowing that he didn’t have to be a part of this insanity that we call life and that he has an even bigger role in the place we call Heaven!

We had snow on Thanksgiving and hubby worked out in it for four hours in the wind and temps no higher than 25 degrees that day. He also drove in the mess but he did have the pleasure of being home for turkey dinner and home comfortably on Black Friday. Adam and I on the weekend began the Christmas decorating and as of Monday the place was looking like Christmas had kissed and blessed the scene. 

The holidays are shadowed in a new color for me, and I imagine many others, the color of grief. While lights dazzle, tinsel sparkles, snow glistens the bubble surrounding many homes this season is a somber gray, echoed by candlelight and showers of prayer washing over not only people but also a nation in the midst of sadness.

I know many people put on the show of glitz and glamour, hug tightly to the materialistic glow that surrounds the season, find themselves nestled in parties and booze all the while many are out here suffering through the pains that come along with this season, the season of joy, now the season of grief.

I won’t allow grief to ruin my Christmas; after all it is the season that we celebrate the Lord’s birth. I won’t allow fear of the unknown to ruin my Christmas because that is what the terror seekers want for us, to live in fear and I won’t allow that to happen. I will allow fear to empower me and to continue in this season with joy and hope in my heart. 

The prayerful soul that I am will bless you all as you too meander through this season. Go with peace, share the love and Light that Jesus stood for in His coming and prayerfully walk with God as you embrace the diversity that rest assured will slap us in the face in the coming new year.

God bless you all!

John 1:4-5 “In him was life; and the life was the light of men.

And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.”

Do We Know the Future?

Luke 21: 21: 9 “But when ye shall hear of wars and commotions, be not terrified: for these things must first come to pass; but the end is not by and by.”

Sunday’s sermon touched on the false prophet who claims to know when the end of the world was near. We hear it all the time that these are the end times but keep in mind that during Jesus’ time the apostles and people all thought that they too were living in the end times. Every generation and false prophet claims that they hold the truth and know when the end times will be.

Matt. 24: 36 But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.

I realized many years ago that focusing on these false prophecies were only doing more harm than good. It kept me from focusing on God and by allowing myself to be led into this false prophecy satan is achieving his goal and that goal is: “The more lies I feed them, the more they believe what I’m saying and not listening to the truth that God has shown them.”

Let me ask, if you knew they day and hour that you were going to die, would you do anything different? Of course you would! But knowing that the Lord has a set day and time for the day of earth to end, you do nothing?

When a blizzard is said to be coming, people rush out and stock up on food, snacks and toiletries preparing to be hunkered down for days on end. Then the day arrives and not even a flurry lands on the grass, making you realize you prepared for nothing. 

That is exactly what false prophecy is, it gets you thinking the end is near and you prepare for it in fear and then it doesn’t come to fruition. Your fears were based on lies. Yes we can rest assured that God does not lie or instill fear in us, and the end WILL happen and we should only be preparing for our entry into heaven, not wandering about looking to see if the end is upon us so that YOU know (or think you know) when the end will come. God will let those who see, see and those that hear, hear.

There’s a terrorist group that is doing this same thing, instilling fear in people. I’m not going to name them because of course that showers more attention on them and I see that they get enough attention so I’ll let you think about it for a moment. God does not instill fear or terror and anyone who does instill fear is nothing more than a cowardly bully.

Think about it, satan instills fear. We fear death, we fear not measuring up, we fear losing our job and we fear everything and nothing. To live in fear of impending terror you give power to fear.  I hear people cursing God for creating them as worthless to society. I hear people cry in desperation for some kind of anything to help them get through trouble but note, they WON’T give power over to God. They would much rather allow satan run their lives into the pits of hell than admit they NEED God to reign in their life.

I know quite a few atheist (and no, it isn’t you because you’re reading me for the inspiration you seek) an atheist doesn’t have time for inspiration, I assume they only have time for living in fear. I’m not here to judge them because if they are happy, truly happy living that way, well more power to them.

I wonder why so many people are obsessed with when the end will happen. You know what I say? Live every day like it was the last day on earth and you won’t have to live in fear or worry when the end will come.

One of the things that I feel at peace with is that my dad didn’t fear death. When he went into the hospital he knew he wasn’t going to go back home. As much fighting to live the man did, he didn’t fear death even on his last day. With one of his last breaths he told my mother he loved her and I know he was at peace in going to his heavenly home.

No one can predict the future. Not even Jesus knew when the end was going to happen so listening to a minister say HE knows when the end is, you are just feeding his ego of lies. No one knows!!! When it ends, we should all be prepared, not in a panic state, not in a fearful state but in a peaceful state.

With the Thanksgiving holiday approaching and many people traveling the highways, the railroads and the skies, instead of going in fear of what MIGHT happen, go in love and be thankful for a family to go home to on the holiday. Be grateful for the time spent on this earth and cherish every last second because one never knows, it might be your last.

Read Matthew 24

Matt. 24:36 “But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.”

Reasons...

Job 17:7 Mine eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, and all my members are as a shadow.

A Reason

As you can imagine in the depth of my grief, I search endlessly for reasons why things are the way they are. My dad was in the hospital for three weeks when he finally succumbed to COPD in the same hospital room that my grandmother had passed.

I’ve gone over the WHY’S:

Why did he die?

Why was I not there?

Why am I here (in Nebraska)?

Why didn’t I make it to the funeral?

Why didn’t my poem reach his ears?

Why, why, why?

Then I went over the reasons behind all the WHY’S. I wasn’t torturing myself I was more like self-analyzing all the reasons there are for the way things happened the way they did.

Let’s go in order:

Why did he die?

Well, he didn’t just die. For twenty years since his first heart surgery my father had sought out God. He had become closer to God in his final years, not saying he attended church or anything but in his own way he embraced his religion, what it meant to him and where he’d go in the final chapter of his existence, heaven.

My father suffered for many years with heart problems and the last few years it had gotten worse. He was a survivor of throat cancer and watched his sister succumb just this year to the deadly colon cancer (among other cancers she was hit with), and he’d watch from afar his brother-in-law fight with lung cancer.

Over this past year my dad would need more and more oxygen. It got to the point he barely made it to the car with the heavy tanks he had to carry with him. He struggled to breathe on a daily basis. Something we too often take for granted, he was relinquished to begging for more.

Why did he die? Because his heart and lungs couldn’t take it anymore. There was not enough oxygen on this planet to fill his lungs so he had to go to the place where he could breathe easy without any struggles, heaven.

Why was I not there?

It just wasn’t meant to be. I carry a smidgen of guilt but am relieved when I go over the reality of not being there. Reality, something no one wants to hear, they just want to play the point-the-finger-at-the-lousy-daughter game. Yeah, my brothers are back there in Baltimore pointing fingers and wondering what kind of daughter doesn’t make it to her own fathers funeral. I’ll tell you what kind, the kind that lives in the REAL world!

Had I had $3,000 dollars hanging out of my pocket I surely would’ve hightailed it back to Baltimore disability and all. The reality of the matter is, I don’t have $3.00 hanging out of my pocket. I have a roof over my head, I have food on my plate, the house is heated and I have a wonderful husband! Can anyone say they really want more? Then you my friend are a prisoner of a false reality. I don’t live for WANT, I live for NEED and am provided for my needs daily! I WANTED to  be back home but apparently I wasn’t NEEDED.

Let me let you in on another reality. I have two brothers that could’ve very well paid my way back there with no skin off their nose! Did I WANT them to? No! They have their cable bills, their new cars and trucks to pay for, their season tickets to football/baseball games, goodness, where would they EVER find spare cash to help their sister?

My one brother from Tennessee drove eight hours back home but allowed my mother to pay for his hotel for three nights? I forgive him for that since he is the one who paid my mother’s $150 a month garage fees to park their car for the past five or six years. My other brother is a drugee, and my sister has a rental place with her three kids living there.

Why was I not there? 

For the plain and simple reason, MONEY. Sad but true. The reality of life is, that EVERYTHING boils down to money, remember that.

Why am I here in Nebraska? 

Because a man saw a wounded soul 1400 miles away from him and just like a puppy in the middle of the road, he saw to it to rescue me from death.

Why didn’t I make it to the funeral? 

For the reasons above of why I wasn’t there in Baltimore. If you read into the picture I painted of my family, they are who they are and I am no longer a part of them; that bothers them to no measure. I’m happy with nothing (but everything) and they are miserable with everything and more.

They didn’t want me back there because they love me, they wanted me back there to relieve their conscience and so they’d have something and someone to talk about.

Why didn’t my poem reach his ears?

My sister had my last words to my dad on her phone and she was ‘going’ to read it to him but didn’t find the time. Did she read it at his funeral? No. Why? Because she was taking care of other matters that were more important than my last wish to my father.

It wasn’t meant to be. My poem finally made it to my mother via snail-mail and her words were somewhat hurtful, “I’m glad your father didn’t hear this before he died, because it was SAD!”

I’ll tuck that one under my belt.

So again I’ll ask, why am I here in Nebraska?

Because the Lord saw me worthy to be loved! To know what love IS! To feel HIM wrapped around my heart and to bless ME!

While my mother and father were the only two that truly loved me (back home), my siblings claimed to love me but I say to you, to KNOW love is to SHOW love, and in thirteen years I have not been shown love by any of my siblings.

Granted, if they read this, they’d spew that I don’t know what I’m talking about, and * I* never SHOWED THEM love. It’s a tit-for-tat game with them, a game I quit many years ago, out of LOVE for my self and my sanity.

Also granted, that if they knew I was writer, they’d read my words. They love me so well. (Yes I gave them a link to my writing but they lost it somewhere over the years.) Remember, if I’m not making MONEY, then I’m not a writer.

All my WHY’S and REASONS have been answered and now I search for PEACE in the midst of my grief. I go with faith in my hand and God in my heart and I move on to the next phase of my life. I feel the wind beneath my wings…

God bless you all!

Pss. 38: 8 I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.

Middle of Nowhere

Pss. 147:4  “He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.”

Middle of Nowhere

It hit me and it hit me hard when I realized I’m out in the middle of nowhere, especially when the urgency to get back home became some kind of fantasy trip never to be had. I suddenly felt alone, alone and wandering like the couple in the Children of the Corn movie, where every road that they turned down basically led to nowhere.

I remember being back in Dallas when the panic call came that my mother had a stroke, my dad wanted me home and he’d pay for everything just to see me back there consoling my mother. In less than 24 hours we boarded a plane and landed at BWI airport. It took us 20 minutes to get to the airport where we’d board a three-hour flight bound for the east coast. Easy peasy!

When the call came in that my father had passed, I wrestled with what had to be done. I thought another easy flight plan was in store for my near future but no, it just wasn’t meant to be. The cheapest airline tickets ranged from $337 – $557 round trip. That is not including hotel and car rental and of course the food we’d need to eat. We’re talking close to $2000 - $3000 trip for the three of us to get back to my hometown. That doesn’t include the gas that we’d need to make a three-four hour trip to Omaha to catch the plane.

It’s not like people have money just lying around waiting to help a poor soul, they have lives and needs themselves. My dilemma is my dilemma and as it would be, it just isn’t meant for me to go back and see my family during one of the hardest times in their lives.

When my brother looked at the google earth map he realized something and exclaimed, “You live out in the middle of nowhere! Literally!” Tell me something I DON’T know! I look at the map and it looks like a simple straight line from Nebraska to Baltimore but there is more than meets the eyes there!

We have an airport 3-4 hours away. We don’t have bus stations or trains that could just whisk me away on a trip to Baltimore as easy as it was when we lived in Dallas. We literally live out in the middle of nowhere! We don’t even have a place to call to deliver food out here, that’s how far away we are from the main town.

My only connection at this time is facebook via computer and my phone. I don’t have one of those ‘Smart  Phones’ that everybody uses to surf the worldwide web; I don’t have the luxury of ‘facetime’, whatever that is, and no one back home has a way to allow me to SEE the family I long to be with at this time.

I have to sit here out in the middle of nowhere and grieve in my own way. It’s hard but I’m muddling through, writing every day whether it’s something to post or not to post. I clean, I rake, I do whatever my back will allow. I know my limits.

I call my mother just to hear her voice in the morning and at night to make sure she takes her medicine. That is what my dad did and she tells me that sometimes if I hadn’t called, she would have surely forgotten to take her meds. She sounded really good last night as opposed to the other tearful three weeks; she laughed and I know I heard her smile right through the phone. She sounded as if one-thousand pounds of stress had been lifted off her shoulders. Yes she’s grieving but she is also accepting that this is what was meant to be.

I walked out the back door and looked up at the billions of stars in the sky out in the middle of nowhere and said to my father, “Dad, she’s going to be all right.”

Just at that moment a shooting star danced across the sky. I whispered, “You show off.”

1 Cor. 15:41 “There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars: for one star differeth from another star in glory.”

The Call Came...

RtoL: Uncle Richie,Aunt Gerald,Aunt Betty, My Dad!

note: only Aunt Betty is alive

Matt. 8: 26 And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.

The Call Came…

Let me say first, if you have recently lost a beloved soul, read no further as I don’t want you tearing up and opening old wounds. God be with you.

The call came last night after we had just finished watching Casper. Poignant lines rang throughout the movie such as:

Kat: What's it like to die?

Casper: Like... being born, only backwards. I remember, I didn't go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind, so my dad wouldn't be lonely.

Amelia Harvey: James, I know you have been searching for me, but there's something you must understand. You and Kat loved me so well when I was alive that I have no unfinished business, please don't let me be yours.

Kat: “My mom. Just certain things. The sound of her making breakfast downstairs. The way she'd put on her lipstick, so carefully. I do remember, she always used Ivory soap, and when she'd hug me, I'd breathe her in, so deep. And I remember before I'd go to sleep she'd whisper in my ear, "stardust in the eyes, rosy cheeks, and a happy girl in the morning."

This brought memories flooding back; like my dad wearing Old Spice, his favorite cologne; after Bethlehem Steel closed down him and I spent many mornings home and he’d often make his famous Omelet, never leaving the fresh vegetables and dashes of this and that out; the aroma of the kitchen while said breakfast was being cooked but most of all I remember his tight hugs where puffs of cologne would kiss my cheek.

After the movie ended my mother called. This was one of our nightly calls when she got home from the hospital where she would tell me how my father was this day and I’d remind her to take her medicine. My dad wasn’t good this day. He slept through my mother, sister, brothers and aunt who were visiting. His hand would twitch, his toes would move and he squeezed my mothers’ hand as she whispered memories to him. She told him she would be okay and that it would be okay if he passed. Her last words to him were, instead of I’ll see you tomorrow, “I’ll see ya when I get to heaven.”

Everyone left the room and the halls fell silent as visiting hours were over. She went home and called me. She was finally eating some food and sounding like her old self (no, not with her mouth full), feeling not so sad and just trying to make peace with letting go of the man she adored for sixty years. I didn’t cry too much and tried so hard to stay stoic and in charge of my being. I again reminded her to take her medicine; we said our ‘I love you’ and I told her to call me if anything happened. She was exhausted.

I don’t even think 20 minutes passed when the phone rang again. I said, “There’s the call.” I knew who and what it was going to be and sure enough it was my mother in tears, pain leaking through the phone like a raining night and a hole in the umbrella. She told me how she had just laid down and was falling asleep when she felt someone touch her foot, she jumped and the phone rang with the devastating news of her husband, her best friend, had passed away. I guess that was my dads way of saying goodbye to her.

She made the necessary calls, me being one of them. I then called my brother, then my mother called again. We sat on the phone until 11:30 est. time when she said she wanted to rest. She just wanted to be alone; alone with her thoughts. I understood but I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to be there hugging her tightly and NEVER let her go.

It’s been a long road my dads illness, and the last two weeks of him wanting to go home but the doctor not allowing it have been agonizing pain for all involved but I felt a blessed comfort wash over me when I knew, the call came…he was called HOME!

Be at peace, Dad…inhale the breath of heaven.

Psalm 23:1-6 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

To my father...

from google images

Psalm 46:2 ~ Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;

I cannot stand...

I have our heartfelt memories

Stored inside my heart

I cannot stand and watch you

Being slowly torn apart.

There is a soft wind blowing

A fragrance in the air

Heaven calling out to you

I cannot stand to bear.

I cannot stand and watch

The lighthouse falling down

Brick by brick dismantled

Without its shining crown.

I cannot come and be there

To stand right by your side

I’m in the best place for you

And that is right inside!

I stand along the shoreline

And watch your light go dim.

I see the angel’s calling out

In a radiant glorious hymn.

I love you, Dad!

Poetry Sunday ~ Happy Father's Day

HAPPY FATHERS DAY!
***

Fathers day is the day
we thank our fathers for
all that he has done
all the battles won.
Our fathers can do no more.

On this day I’m grateful
for all he’s done for me
the lil girl he raised
given brighter days,
has always set me free.

It is my father I thank
for loving me these years.
not just a part
but all of my heart
He’s dried the lonely tears.

I cherish my father tis true
a pillar of strength I know.
he’s relayed this to me
I accept it gladly.
to him my love I bestow!



A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again. ~Enid Bagnold

Words for Wednesday

Runs into thoughts for Thursday...

Psalm 9: 1 I will praise thee, O LORD, with my whole heart; I will shew forth all thy marvellous works.

***

Today I was going to write about my friend and her poetry book, The Vines of Life . Julie Jennings is quite the inspirational woman with inspirational poetry to back her up!

I met her through WVU, Writer’s Village University, she’s stopped by and visited me here a few times, and whenever someone from WVU needs a little support, I’m there for them! It’s what I do. I’m a true friend. I love all people! But most of all, I love helping people.

I keep telling my fiance’ that I could never be a rich person because I would give my money away to those in need before I ever helped myself, that’s just the way I am. :)

So today, I got sidetracked with thinking of my father. He was put in the hospital on Monday, bleeding internally and whenever someone calls me crying, especially my mother, my heart aches to be there for them, her in this case.

My mother and I, when I lived back home in Maryland, were extremely close. I lived next door to her for thirteen years and when I moved a mile away, she sold her house and moved right around the corner. We were inseparable.

My dad was always the loner type guy, but my mother and me, like two peas in a pod. Funny, caring, loving and would bend over backwards to see someone else happy, and forget about ourselves. This made leaving home the most difficult thing I had ever done in my life.

Once I moved, I realized it was the best thing for me spiritually and physically because I knew, I had never really grown up, I always had my mother taking care of me no matter what situation I got myself into. And believe you me, there were many situations. (long story, read my autobiography when it finally gets published.) *wink*

I’ve been away for seven years come May 18, only returning home once, when my mother had a stroke. My sister is not as supportive and close as I was with my mother and my brothers (I have four) are all in dysfunctional stages of their lives. And keep in mind, I’m the baby of six and my eldest brother is 54. I’ve been diving into writing for the past seven years and my world has taken on new shape and meaning. What can I say, now I help writers write right! I’ve been a writer all of my life but the past seven years, I’ve taken life and writing more seriously!

My dad is home now and I knew when the phone rang that it was my mother, going to tell me my dad was safe at home, and sure enough it was her. After fifty-six years of marriage, those two are inseparable. Maybe my leaving was intended for them to get closer, because I know that since I’ve left, they’ve knitted themselves together like never before.  Sickness and health, richer and poorer takes on new meaning.

With this Sunday being Mothers Day, I think of all the great mothers out there, hopefully myself included, and I think of the people whose mothers have passed on and are now alone without that best friend there to guide and care for them. In some way, I take on that roll and nurse all the kids, whether young or old into the path they were meant to be. I’m a shepherd and all of you are my sheep. :) What a wonderful gift.

On that note...I am rich beyond belief!