Simply Sunday

The Firsts

I have felt
The joy in
Celebrating
The firsts-
Smiles
Steps
Words
Birthdays
The one being
Celebrated
Too young
To remember
Yet, later seeing
Thru the eyes
Of those who
Were present
Knowing their
Foundation
Was built
In love-
Strange how
Those firsts
Continue
But change
After one is gone
A birthday
An anniversary
A holiday
Without them
The one being
Remembered
Not here, and yet
Our tears
And smiles
Confirmation
Of that same
Foundation
Still standing

This is our first Easter without Dad. Just me and Mom watching church online as my Uncle James preached from the church where he and my Aunt Martha serve in Massachusetts. It was quiet. The message was hopeful. And we are thankful. Happy Easter! 🕊

Freshly Sliced Strawberries

A regular guest
Always
Managing
To find his
Way back
To this place
Always
Managing
To keep his
Path hidden
From his host
Which was okay
Reservations were
Not accepted anyway-
The proprietor
Remaining
Ever ready
To welcome
His friend
However long
The space
Between visits
With freshly
Sliced strawberries
And a kind word-
A life lesson
For other guests
Young and old-
All creatures
No matter
Their stature
Deserve freshly
Sliced strawberries

My sweet dad and his turtle friend, Buddy. ❤️

I’m not sure how many years this turtle visited my parent’s backyard, but it was several. When our family visited, we would go outside to look for Buddy. On one particular occasion, there was some construction involved.

Our youngest son, Ryan, decided Buddy needed his own little resort. Ryan found a plastic container and gathered some rocks. After careful placement, he added water. And believe it or not, Buddy crawled right in!

Today, I am grateful for this sweet photo and memory.

Poems From the Circle

Once again, sharing poems from the writing circle. I continue to be grateful for this experience. Can’t believe it’s been three years! Thank you, Ali, http://flashlightbatteries.blog for creating this beautiful space. ❤️

Sweet Dreams

Can you imagine?
Camping in the woods
Red-orange glow
Of the campfire
Smell of smoke
Sleeping in a tent
So serene…until
Seven little girls
Bathing in a
Small tin tub
On top of a
Wooden picnic table
Enter the picture-
Warm water carefully
Poured over each
Little head
The night air
Filled with giggles
As they dry off
In front of the fire-
Maybe not so serene
Except for the
Sweet dreams
Of sleepy headed
Children after
A busy day
Exploring
The wonders
Of the wild woods

A Little Longer

I seem to be
Spending
More time
Inside my heart
These days
Blocking out
The noisy world
Ignoring my own
Thoughts
So as not
To neglect
A single memory of you-
I know some
Will fade
With time
But for now
It is my heart
That holds
Each image
Your quiet strength
Your gentle smile
Your sky-blue eyes
It is a sacred job
This holding
So, I think
I will remain
Inside my heart
Just a little longer

Smiles and Tears

Memories of you
Make me smile
Fried chicken leg
In my little hands
Sitting in your lap
At the table
You are smiling
Wearing a white t-shirt-
Maybe that is
An actual picture
Not a memory-

Little red wagon
Transportation
For your first
Grandchild, smiling
As you pulled him
Around the neighborhood
Now that one
I can recall-

No longer having
The opportunity
To make memories
With you makes me cry-
A human response
I know-time spent
In the present
In the physical
Where Memories
Are created
For the future
But we are
So much more
Than the physical
Standing
In this present
Space and time
And though I may not
Understand it all
And sometimes
Feel sadness
In every strand
Of my being
All the way
To the core
Hope lives both
In the smiles
And in the tears

Simply Sunday

What am I?

I can hold
The weight
Of worries
Right alongside
The deepest
Of joys
I’ve had lots
Of experience
Held them for
Many others
Over the years
Moms and dads
Grandmas
Grandpas
As their arms
Held the tiniest
Of beings
Overcome
With love
Responsibility
And exhaustion-
One gentle push
Of their feet
Against the floor
And fears fade
With my back
And forth rhythm
That lends itself
To lullabies-
It’s okay
Sit down
Take a breath
You can trust me

Word List

I started the day with a two-minute word list writing exercise. Set the timer, start writing, and see where it goes. My list, not surprisingly, began with sadness and tears. But it ended with hope and future.

I haven’t used this exercise in a while. I’m glad I chose it today. Grateful for where it led.

My dad was proud of his grandkids and loved them very much. You can see it in the pictures. And they know it in their hearts.

He was so excited about becoming a great-grandpa. Even though he had not met this sweet new baby, he already loved her.

I know her mom and dad will tell her stories about all her great-grandparents someday. All the while, writing new stories to be shared in the future.

I can’t wait to meet our granddaughter…💗

What Do I Expect?

When talking
To my mom
On the phone-
To hear my dad
In the background
How’s my little girl?

When visiting
The house
Where I grew up-
To see him walking
Down the hall or
Standing in the kitchen

When far away
In my own home
Living my daily life-
To picture them
In my mind’s eye
By each other’s side

Each represents a truth
I have witnessed
Year after year
But sometimes
Life requires a change
Of expectations

Death is no exception.

Tho its shifts remain
Partially hidden
Until their time
Otherwise, we
Might not love
Quite so fiercely

Transformations

I’ve never given deep thought to the life cycle of a butterfly. Besides children’s books and craft projects, that is. A tiny egg, a growing caterpillar, and a beautiful butterfly. It sounds simple, especially when mapped out with cotton balls, popsicle sticks, and coffee filters.

But none of those descriptions mention the chrysalis or what happens inside. The transformation is anything but simple. It is hard and sometimes painful. Near-perfect conditions are required for the butterfly to be released.

This week, saying goodbye to my dad, I was reminded of the shell left behind. It held so much life. Protected the spirit and soul of its occupant. And when the time came, allowed its release.

Death is part of life. I know that. And my dad lived his to the fullest, good times and bad. Health conditions over the past few years caused him to slow down. Challenging for someone who spent their life building things.

Instead of swinging a hammer, he would cook dinner for kids at church. Instead of traveling on mission trips, he would encourage friends thru phone calls. He did not complain. And most of all, he enjoyed his life with my mom. Picnics by the lake, coffee, cookies in the evenings, doctor appointments…life.

His sweet soul is no longer with us. It has been released. My faith tells me he is with God. And though that brings comfort, I selfishly wish he was still with us. The missing is hard. I suppose it is a part of my transformation…

A Perfect Day

Clean haircut
Refreshing
Especially after
More than a week
Of laying in
A hospital bed
Pleasant drive
Past the lake
And back
Sweetheart
By his side
Drive-thru
Grilled
Chicken
Salad
Unsweet tea
Sweetly
Predictable
Quiet evening
At home
Thankful
To be there
Watching
Grand Ole Opry
On the T.V.
One of his
Favorites
Stayed awake
Past ten o’clock
Sweetly
Unusual
A perfect
Last day
This side
Of heaven
For a quiet
Man of faith
Who could not
Possibly know
The far reaches
Of his influence

I thought I heard his voice yesterday. Keep waiting for him to walk down the hallway or see him standing in the kitchen. Wishing he was sitting in his chair instead of me. I know he’s no longer here, but my heart won’t let me stop looking.

My dad worked hard his whole life. His rough hands offered proof. Health issues these past few years forced him to slow down. No more hammers, nails, lumber, or ladders. I know it was hard for him at times. But he rarely complained. Even when reminded to use his cane for balance, to wear his hearing aids, or asked where his glasses were.

There is so much to remember. So much to share. But today, I am thinking about the last day. It was a good one. ❤️

Simply Sunday

Grief

A black cloud
Moved across
The gray
Morning sky
Circling, swirling
Changing shape
Separating
Coming back
Together
Its fluctuations
Matching
My grief-
Moving closer
I could see
It was not
A cloud
But a flock
Of birds-
They landed
On the branches
Of barren trees
Perched up high
Unwavering
Their feathers
A brief replacement
For recently
Fallen leaves
Their stillness
Giving my heart
A moment to rest
Catch my breath
Though tears
Continued to flow

My sweet dad passed away early this morning. My heart is broken. I am forever grateful that he was my dad. He had a gentle strength about him. There is so much I want to remember and reflect over. But for now, this is all I can share.