Aa
Sharing, Part Two
Here is the e-mail I wrote the minister about my Dad:
Guy:
When we met I spoke to you about my father a little. I asked if you could say something about him at the wedding, as he passed away 11 years ago this September. The grieving process is strange...I still have good days and bad days. The good days now far outnumber the bad days, but when he first died I had bad days almost every day for the first year or two. I was laying in the bed, next to my Dad, holding his hand while he died. My brother Bill, who will be doing the readings at the ceremony, and my Mom were standing on the side of the bed. My father was totally conscious and was trying to say something to my Mom the whole time he was dying. We couldn't understand what he was saying, but he was looking her in the eye and saying the same thing over and over. That death scene still haunts me. My brother Bill and I have often discussed that day and we're not sure who was luckier - us, for having gotten to be there with him while he died, or my other brothers, Charles and Joe, for not having had to see it. I have come to the conclusion that we were the lucky ones. As painful a memory as his death is (I still cry every time I think about it), he sacrificed his entire life for his children and we were able, in the end, to give a little back to him.
I don't really know how to describe my father in way that someone who never knew him could get a grasp on what a beautiful person he was. Everyone who knew him in life would tell you that one trait about him was that he loved life! He was happy, loved to laugh, coud make any occasion a happy one and was always the life of the party. If my father had pains or regrets, he kept them deep inside and they never affected his outward demeanor. I'm not saying he was perfect, no man is. But he was as close to perfect as any man I've ever known.
My father, from the time he and my mother began a family, sacrificed his wants and desires for his family. He did without so that his children could have everything they needed. He certainly didn't give us everything we wanted, but he made sure we had everything we needed. The things he considered important needs were a nice, safe home - we always had a beautiful home; a solid foundation in our faith - we attended Church as a family every single Sunday of my life and prayed together before every single meal we ate (which we ate every breakfast and dinner together, as a family, sitting at the table); a good education - we were all sent to private schools and he gave each of us the opportunity to get a college education at his expense. In addition, he taught us about living life to the fullest. He didn't become depressed when things were bad. He faced life head on and made it through every curve life threw at him with a smile for us to see (even if he worried and cried behind closed doors.)
I can honestly say that I never heard, not once in my life, my father say an unkind thing to my mother. They loved each other and were a united front in raising their children. They provided us a loving home, giving us a model for one day building our lives with our own spouses/children.
A favorite memory of my father (and mother, who is still living but slowly subcoming to Alzheimer's) is of them dancing. My parents grew up during the "Golden Age" of Swing and Big Band. The were part of "The Greatest Generation". Every evening, before dinner, they would have a cocktail and put on an album - usually Frank Sinatra, Glen Miller, Tony Bennett or the like. Then they would dance. And they danced so beautifully. When I was very small my father would dance with me in his arms. As I got bigger, he would let me stand on his feet and dance me around. When I became a young lady, he taught me to dance and I would join them for dancing every evening. I wish he were here to dance with me again.
I am so sorry that my Dad isn't here to get to know Tim. He would have loved him. Tim is so much like my father, in so many ways, that it is uncanny. I have heard that girls tend to look for men who remind them of their fathers. In my case, I couldn't have found anyone who closer resembles his character.
I am pasting a story into the body of this e-mail for you to read. It is very short and perhaps you've seen it before. I found this, years and years ago, in a Reader's Digest and copied it down on paper and gave it to my father along with a note telling him that this story reminded me of him and how much I loved him and thanked him for all the good things he taught us. It may give you a little more insight into my father's character - he would have done this same thing:
There was once an 11-year-old who went fishing every chance he got from the dock at his family's cabin on an island in the middle of a New Hampshire lake.
On the day before bass season opened, he and his father were fishing early in the evening, catching sunfish and perch with worms. Then he tied on a small silver lure and practiced casting. The lure struck the water and caused colored ripples in the sunset, then silver ripples as the moon rose over the lake.
When his pole doubled over, he knew something huge was on the other end. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully worked the fish alongside the dock. Finally he very gingerly lifted the exhausted fish from the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a bass.
The boy and his father looked at the handsome fish, gills playing back and forth in the moonlight. The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 p.m. -- two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. "You'll have to put it back, son," he said.
"Dad!" cried the boy. "There will be other fish," said his father. "Not as big as this one," cried the boy. He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were anywhere around in the moonlight. He looked again at his father.
Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he caught the fish, the boy could tell by the clarity of his father's voice that the decision was not negotiable. He slowly worked the hook out of the lip of the huge bass, and lowered it into the black water.
The creature swished its powerful body and disappeared. The boy suspected that he would never again see such a great fish.
That was 34 years ago. Today the boy is a successful architect in New York City. His father's cabin is still there on the lake. He takes his own son and daughters fishing from the same dock.
And he was right. He has never again caught such a magnificent fish as the one he landed that night long ago. But he does see that same fish...again and again...every time he comes up against a question of ethics. For, as his father taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult.
If you would like to talk to me more about how to honor him at the ceremony we can get together at your convenience or you can e-mail me with any questions or suggestions you have. I would very much like for him to be remembered. I miss him so very much, still.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope it helps a little.
Sincerely,
Rosie
Guy:
When we met I spoke to you about my father a little. I asked if you could say something about him at the wedding, as he passed away 11 years ago this September. The grieving process is strange...I still have good days and bad days. The good days now far outnumber the bad days, but when he first died I had bad days almost every day for the first year or two. I was laying in the bed, next to my Dad, holding his hand while he died. My brother Bill, who will be doing the readings at the ceremony, and my Mom were standing on the side of the bed. My father was totally conscious and was trying to say something to my Mom the whole time he was dying. We couldn't understand what he was saying, but he was looking her in the eye and saying the same thing over and over. That death scene still haunts me. My brother Bill and I have often discussed that day and we're not sure who was luckier - us, for having gotten to be there with him while he died, or my other brothers, Charles and Joe, for not having had to see it. I have come to the conclusion that we were the lucky ones. As painful a memory as his death is (I still cry every time I think about it), he sacrificed his entire life for his children and we were able, in the end, to give a little back to him.
I don't really know how to describe my father in way that someone who never knew him could get a grasp on what a beautiful person he was. Everyone who knew him in life would tell you that one trait about him was that he loved life! He was happy, loved to laugh, coud make any occasion a happy one and was always the life of the party. If my father had pains or regrets, he kept them deep inside and they never affected his outward demeanor. I'm not saying he was perfect, no man is. But he was as close to perfect as any man I've ever known.
My father, from the time he and my mother began a family, sacrificed his wants and desires for his family. He did without so that his children could have everything they needed. He certainly didn't give us everything we wanted, but he made sure we had everything we needed. The things he considered important needs were a nice, safe home - we always had a beautiful home; a solid foundation in our faith - we attended Church as a family every single Sunday of my life and prayed together before every single meal we ate (which we ate every breakfast and dinner together, as a family, sitting at the table); a good education - we were all sent to private schools and he gave each of us the opportunity to get a college education at his expense. In addition, he taught us about living life to the fullest. He didn't become depressed when things were bad. He faced life head on and made it through every curve life threw at him with a smile for us to see (even if he worried and cried behind closed doors.)
I can honestly say that I never heard, not once in my life, my father say an unkind thing to my mother. They loved each other and were a united front in raising their children. They provided us a loving home, giving us a model for one day building our lives with our own spouses/children.
A favorite memory of my father (and mother, who is still living but slowly subcoming to Alzheimer's) is of them dancing. My parents grew up during the "Golden Age" of Swing and Big Band. The were part of "The Greatest Generation". Every evening, before dinner, they would have a cocktail and put on an album - usually Frank Sinatra, Glen Miller, Tony Bennett or the like. Then they would dance. And they danced so beautifully. When I was very small my father would dance with me in his arms. As I got bigger, he would let me stand on his feet and dance me around. When I became a young lady, he taught me to dance and I would join them for dancing every evening. I wish he were here to dance with me again.
I am so sorry that my Dad isn't here to get to know Tim. He would have loved him. Tim is so much like my father, in so many ways, that it is uncanny. I have heard that girls tend to look for men who remind them of their fathers. In my case, I couldn't have found anyone who closer resembles his character.
I am pasting a story into the body of this e-mail for you to read. It is very short and perhaps you've seen it before. I found this, years and years ago, in a Reader's Digest and copied it down on paper and gave it to my father along with a note telling him that this story reminded me of him and how much I loved him and thanked him for all the good things he taught us. It may give you a little more insight into my father's character - he would have done this same thing:
There was once an 11-year-old who went fishing every chance he got from the dock at his family's cabin on an island in the middle of a New Hampshire lake.
On the day before bass season opened, he and his father were fishing early in the evening, catching sunfish and perch with worms. Then he tied on a small silver lure and practiced casting. The lure struck the water and caused colored ripples in the sunset, then silver ripples as the moon rose over the lake.
When his pole doubled over, he knew something huge was on the other end. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully worked the fish alongside the dock. Finally he very gingerly lifted the exhausted fish from the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a bass.
The boy and his father looked at the handsome fish, gills playing back and forth in the moonlight. The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 p.m. -- two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. "You'll have to put it back, son," he said.
"Dad!" cried the boy. "There will be other fish," said his father. "Not as big as this one," cried the boy. He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were anywhere around in the moonlight. He looked again at his father.
Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he caught the fish, the boy could tell by the clarity of his father's voice that the decision was not negotiable. He slowly worked the hook out of the lip of the huge bass, and lowered it into the black water.
The creature swished its powerful body and disappeared. The boy suspected that he would never again see such a great fish.
That was 34 years ago. Today the boy is a successful architect in New York City. His father's cabin is still there on the lake. He takes his own son and daughters fishing from the same dock.
And he was right. He has never again caught such a magnificent fish as the one he landed that night long ago. But he does see that same fish...again and again...every time he comes up against a question of ethics. For, as his father taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult.
If you would like to talk to me more about how to honor him at the ceremony we can get together at your convenience or you can e-mail me with any questions or suggestions you have. I would very much like for him to be remembered. I miss him so very much, still.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope it helps a little.
Sincerely,
Rosie
You have a wonderful day, also. I hope today is a happy one for all of us!
xoxoxo
Rosie
xoxoxo
Rosie
I have read that (on Marriage) but it's been some time. I love it... I too, see him not only as a poet but truly as a "prophet" - his words are no different... or wisdom, I should say.
I haven't read the other, but I can't wait to check it out!!!!
xoxoxo
have a great day, sister...
mj
I haven't read the other, but I can't wait to check it out!!!!
xoxoxo
have a great day, sister...
mj
That is a beautiful thought. Gibran is truly amazing. I know you will get there. And what a beautiful day that will be! We should all strive for such an ideal.
I wanted the passage "On Marriage" read at our ceremony as one of the readings, but the minister would not allow it as it was not out of the Bible. While I understood his stance (to a point) I have to say, his writings are as inspired as any out of the Bible. Have you read "On Marriage"? Here it is, in case you haven't:
Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings
of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the
silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between
the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.
Like you, every time I read Gibran it goes all through me. He touches on emotion so well and is so accurate in his insights. Another writer (modern) who is able to touch on the human psyche and expose emotions, with descriptions you could never imagine, is Pay Conroy. Particularly in the novel "The Prince of Tides". Have you read it? It is NOTHING like the movie. The man can paint a picture of feelings that you cannot even imagine. If you've never read it, do yourself a favor and pick up a copy. You will be captivated from page one, I promise.
I hope you're doing well today.
xoxoxo
Rosie
I wanted the passage "On Marriage" read at our ceremony as one of the readings, but the minister would not allow it as it was not out of the Bible. While I understood his stance (to a point) I have to say, his writings are as inspired as any out of the Bible. Have you read "On Marriage"? Here it is, in case you haven't:
Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings
of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the
silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between
the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.
Like you, every time I read Gibran it goes all through me. He touches on emotion so well and is so accurate in his insights. Another writer (modern) who is able to touch on the human psyche and expose emotions, with descriptions you could never imagine, is Pay Conroy. Particularly in the novel "The Prince of Tides". Have you read it? It is NOTHING like the movie. The man can paint a picture of feelings that you cannot even imagine. If you've never read it, do yourself a favor and pick up a copy. You will be captivated from page one, I promise.
I hope you're doing well today.
xoxoxo
Rosie
Buddy!!! I luv ya too, and I do not know in God's green earth what I would have done withoutcha this whole dang time... you've been my lifesaver!!!!
Thank you once again, for your wonderful kindness... and I hope your day was really really good today....
very warmly,
your super duper bestestest pal,
mj!
Thank you once again, for your wonderful kindness... and I hope your day was really really good today....
very warmly,
your super duper bestestest pal,
mj!
A beautiful post by a beautiful person. You know I luv ya hun. You're one special gal..never forget that. God bless...
My God. Whenever I hear anything from him I feel it in my bones... I love that. And the timing is no coincidence in your posting and my reading that particular one...
Here is a quick one: it pretty much, between you and I, sums up my foremost goal in this life:
"You shall be free indeed when your days are not without care nor your nights without a want and a grief, but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound."
..I hope I get there. :-)
xox
mj
Here is a quick one: it pretty much, between you and I, sums up my foremost goal in this life:
"You shall be free indeed when your days are not without care nor your nights without a want and a grief, but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound."
..I hope I get there. :-)
xox
mj
I smiled big picturing you guys wearing the Groucho glasses and spreading your sweet father's ashes. My father had a wonderful sense of humor, also. What a wonderful thing!!
On Kahlil Gibran...I LOVE his writings. Believe it or not, we had his passage, "On Marriage", printed on our wedding programs. I love "The Prophet". Wow. Most people I ask about him have never heard of him. I love the passage "On Death". Another of my favorites from "The Prophet" is "On Joy and Sorrow":
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
xoxoxo
Rosie
On Kahlil Gibran...I LOVE his writings. Believe it or not, we had his passage, "On Marriage", printed on our wedding programs. I love "The Prophet". Wow. Most people I ask about him have never heard of him. I love the passage "On Death". Another of my favorites from "The Prophet" is "On Joy and Sorrow":
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
xoxoxo
Rosie
ok - now i swear this really IS it. this was read at his service. i really found comfort in it, and i think you might too... it's by Kahlil Gibran:
On Death
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
---it lays me out every time I read it......
xox
mj
On Death
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
---it lays me out every time I read it......
xox
mj
you know, i thought i would tell you this because i thought you might enjoy it.
when we spread my fathers ashes a few weeks ago, the 7 of us kids (yup, seven).. after a small, intimate and emotional service, the 7 of us then put on fake plastic groucho glasses and noses with mustaches, walked out and then spread his ashes... everyone else just watched, and smiled.
my dad had a wicked sense of humor and loved his funny glasses (we have a few pic's of him in them,) among other silly things..
i know he would have wanted it this way...
:)
mj
when we spread my fathers ashes a few weeks ago, the 7 of us kids (yup, seven).. after a small, intimate and emotional service, the 7 of us then put on fake plastic groucho glasses and noses with mustaches, walked out and then spread his ashes... everyone else just watched, and smiled.
my dad had a wicked sense of humor and loved his funny glasses (we have a few pic's of him in them,) among other silly things..
i know he would have wanted it this way...
:)
mj
Rosie.. ths is wonderful.
How lucky you are to have had (and have) such an amazingly kind and beautiful father. I cried the entire time I read this.
What a gift... you, i now know, are doubly lucky. :-)
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful and intimate letter...
with much luv,
mj
How lucky you are to have had (and have) such an amazingly kind and beautiful father. I cried the entire time I read this.
What a gift... you, i now know, are doubly lucky. :-)
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful and intimate letter...
with much luv,
mj
****! i gotta run Rosie cause i start a new job this a.m.... didn't want you to think i don't want to read this!
as soon as my computer is set up, i am reading it.
i just wanted you to know (now) that i care.....
luv
mj
as soon as my computer is set up, i am reading it.
i just wanted you to know (now) that i care.....
luv
mj
No, thank you. I love talking and opening up. I love hearing other people's experiences and stories. They help me so much. I'm sorry if this thread made you sad, but if it helped you cry and cleanse a little, then I'm not sorry. Does that make sense? I hope so. What I'm trying to say is, we should share more often...it's helpful to us and to others.
xoxoxo
Rosie
xoxoxo
Rosie
I just had tears running down my face, I didn't even know I needed to cry, i haven't for a long time. This support and caring is what this forum is for, thank you for your, as always, excellent post.
That is so hard. I know that I am facing this with my mother, also. I cannot even imagine what that will be like. My sweet mother, who has been my rock. It's unbearable to think about, so for now, I will not think about it. Make those memories...they are precious!
Wow, I, too, was holding my mother when she died (I was alone with her) and it sent me into a tailspin with drugs that lasted for years. I'd been with many dying patients but no one's like your parents. It helps me,too, to think of the happy times and to do my best to make those good memories for my children now.
Thanks, Trina. Reading that e-mail this morning made me smile instead of cry. The "death scene" memory is becoming so much easier for me to deal with. It was strange..for the first couple of years after he died, I couldn't picture in my mind anything but that final scene. I couldn't remember his smile or laughter...just his death. Now I have to dig deep to remember his death...when I picture him, I picture his life! It's a wonderful thing and talking about it helps me so much.
See you soon. I hope you're well today. Are you??
xoxoxo
Rosie
See you soon. I hope you're well today. Are you??
xoxoxo
Rosie
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