Posted on 06/07/2004 5:35:34 PM PDT by Howlin
The house I grew up in had large plate-glass windows, which birds frequently crashed into headfirst. My father helped me assemble a bird hospital, consisting of a few shoe boxes, some old rags and tiny dishes for water and food. When I lost my first patient, when the tiny gray creature died in my hands without ever eating any of the Cheerios I'd provided for it, my father patiently explained to me that the bird was free now, flying happily through the blue breezes of heaven, where there are no hazards such as windows. I was locked into his eyes, locked into the story. My father was always more accessible when he was teaching his children through stories.
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Thirty-five years later, I would walk beside him along the beach, after he had already begun slipping into the shadows of Alzheimer's. A dark thief, it steals portions of a person, leaves remnants behind. He looked up at a flock of seagulls soaring overhead and his eyes followed them, shining with something I couldn't decipher, but which I interpreted as longing.
(Excerpt) Read more at msnbc.msn.com ...
I saw that woman standing with a military escort, (in the corner, in shadows, near the doorway) and wondered if it might be Jayne Wyman. Thanks for the confirmation.
I had a 15 year feud with my aunt. I chose last year to reach across the abyss, before it was too late, and bury the hatchet. Patti did too - just in time as it turned out. Time is precious. It was a very personal and moving article, which touched me.
I was frankly surprised at her way with words. I was like "Yes, yes, that's it!" -- you know?
She has an article coming out in People on Friday and I am anxious to read it.
As for my mother, I told her when I reached the age of 35, that the statute of limitations had run on any case that I had to blame her for any of my short comings. I was now on my own. She now is deep into senile dementia, and does not know me any longer. But she is more cheerful and loving now, then ever she was before, even without much memory, as some other parts of her brain still work. And so it goes. She responds to a good hug. She still responds to love.
And so it goes.
Wow.
Thank you for posting this, Howlin.
Dang blurry monitor!
I'm so glad she was reconciled with her family before it was too late, and she couldn't reach her father.
From the article:
The years between those two events were often war-torn, weighed down with sorrowwith words he found difficult to say and words I wish I'd never said.
It's what you do with someone who is always a bit out of reach. You content yourself with moments; you gather them, treasure them. They are the gemstones of the years you shared.
Excellent writing !
That is a beautiful letter; how could Michael ever think his dad didn't love him?
Thanks for the post; I'll be forwarding it to a few friends.
**Mike, you know better than many what an unhappy home is and what it can do to others. Now you have a chance to make it come out the way it should. There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.**
This brings tears to my eyes, but it was me talking to my daughters about how I was treated as a child because my mother had been severely abused by her mother......dragged around by the hair and locked in closets for starters.
So I told my daughters that they had a chance to break this chain of abuse -- and they all have with God's guidance.
BTW, thanks for the ping!
Great read here!
Accurate as far as it goes.........Having buried my first son, I can tell you there is worse pain.......
Accurate as far as it goes.........Having buried my first born son, I can tell you there is worse pain.......
Ironically, this weekend will be an ordeal to get through, and is potentially a powder-keg ready to blow apart me and my parents.
Estranged from them for many years, peace at last and a degree of enjoyment in each others company, if not exactly "closeness".
But they are SCREAMINGLY liberal. They fly in tomorrow for a week's visit. Politics are agreed to be totally off the radar during our infrequent visits. Hubby and I will be quietly mourning our hero and biting our tongues constantly. One small misplaced word from them though, and "the dogs of conservative hell will be unleashed" (hubby's words).
And God help the liberal who invites an irate attack from him. He's loaded for bear and pretty much fed up right about now.
so do you!
Or having buried my husband.
Check my profile page for a link to grief recovery weekends in your area.
Funny. That is exactly what they were saying on the other site.
Becki
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