It has been a year since that fateful day
When your rapture came and you went away;
And in this time we have all come to see
The many things that were so special in thee:
Wisdom and talent that through the years
Earned you much admiration from your teachers and peers;
A quiet inner strength and a warrior’s heart
Were qualities that clearly set you apart;
But with ever a gentle and caring soul
That made one so young seem so old;
These memories of you we will cherish forever
Until our rapture comes and we are again together.
Posts Tagged ‘remembering’
15
Jun
One Year Later
![[Facebook]](https://blogs.sharedwords.net/mike/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/facebook.png)
![[MySpace]](https://blogs.sharedwords.net/mike/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/myspace.png)
![[Twitter]](https://blogs.sharedwords.net/mike/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/twitter.png)
20
Aug
An Unwanted Anniversary
It was 22 years ago today, on August 20, 1988, that my father passed away. It was a Saturday morning, and the word came from his wife at about 7am (my parents divorced in 1980, and he remarried in 1987). The entire sequence of events that followed, right up to the end of the funeral two days later, are as clear in my mind today as they were when they happened. Those memories were actually helpful to me when my son passed away in June; having been through the experience of making funeral preparations back then made it much less confusing when the time came to make Stephen’s arrangements.
For the first few years after Dad died, I would visit his grave on this day. I was always by myself when I visited…that was not because I wanted to be alone; it just seemed to work out that way. He had been in the Army when he was younger, and the government provided a metal grave marker that sits flush with the ground; I would usually make sure nothing was growing over it, then stand there silently for some time. Some years, I would talk to him as though he was there listening patiently; somehow, I felt he was.
Â
Photo courtesy of Randy Sheppard
I got married in 1993, and the effort of raising a family took me away from visiting his grave regularly; then finally in 2000 I moved out of the state altogether, making any kind of simple visit impossible. I have been back to visit relatives several times since then, usually around holidays or while on business trips, but I never seemed to have enough time to pay Dad a visit.
When I stop to think about all of the changes in my life since that day, it boggles my mind – getting married and raising three children, moving 1,000 miles away from where I was raised and starting over in a new town, watching the kids grow into teenagers, sending my first one off to college, and recently losing my son. I have reached the pinnacles of success and the depths of despair, and had many accomplishments in between that were both good and bad; I wonder, though, how many of those might have been different had I been able to seek Dad’s counsel. There were countless times I wanted to talk with him about what I was doing and where I was going, and ask for his advice on so many difficult decisions, but I could not; instead, I had to figure things out on my own. I have tried to reason with myself, asking “what would Dad have done in this situation?†but it is simply not the same as talking to a living, breathing person.
If he were alive today Dad would be 79 years old, but I would be willing to bet his mind would still be as sharp as it ever was. He was a big baseball fan, and would watch or listen to every Atlanta Braves game each season and could rattle off stats about all of the players; today, he would probably still be trying to follow them, even though their games are rarely televised any more. He and my son Stephen would have gotten along great because Steve was also a big baseball fan, having played in Little League and also having followed the Braves as much as he could. I am certain they are both in Heaven now, swapping stories about their favorite players and games. They might even be taking turns hitting some balls around; both of them liked to do that, oddly enough. I’m sure I’ll have a lot of catching up to do with both of them when I get there!
And so, this is my salute to you, Dad. May you always rest in peace.
Today would have been my son Stephen’s 16th birthday. It is the first one to pass without him.
The high school band Steve was a member of decided to have a brief event today in remembrance of him, and my family was invited to attend and participate. It was held outdoors on their practice field. Everyone was given a helium balloon and stood together in a large circle. After a moment of silence, the balloons were released to float away with the wind. Following that, we went to their band hall for lunch, and I spoke a few words of thanks to them for remembering him today. We also took the opportunity to present his pallbearers (most of whom were his fellow band members) with small thank-you gifts, as well as give small tokens of appreciation to several other people. In return, my younger son was given several t-shirts that were being worn by the band…two were what are called a “section shirt†(worn by everyone who plays a particular instrument – in his case, the trumpet), while the other was a “leadership shirt†(he was a section leader). In both cases, his name was listed on the shirts. When I saw them, I realized that the band was going through a “first†of their own by commemorating someone who was so loved and respected.
I know how emotional “firsts†can be. In July of last year I had coronary bypass surgery. Every major event that happened for the next twelve months – my wedding anniversary, birthday, holidays, even the changing seasons – became a “first†for me…but in a good way. These were events I might not have lived to see were it not for the skilled hands of the surgeon and the love, support, and prayers of my family and friends. They were firsts I looked forward to, and when each one arrived I felt so very grateful to be alive and able to share them with everyone. I was still going through those firsts on the day of Stephen’s accident. So now, I have another twelve months’ worth of firsts to live through, but I am not looking forward to any of them.
In this case, the firsts go beyond the annual events to include many of the firsts of any young adult’s life – first driver’s license…first time borrowing the car to go out on a date…first day at college…first full-time job…even his first love. But then, who is to say he had not already met his first love? If he did, he never spoke to me or my wife about her; or, perhaps he had already met her and did not know it because they were both too shy to say anything to one another. If this were true, I am sure that girl has felt absolutely devastated since his death. If she truly exists, I would hope that someday I could meet her and tell her more about him.
I have been told that writing is therapeutic for some people, and I believe this to be true, at least in my case. Writing helps me organize the jumbled thoughts I often have running through my head; and, more importantly, it allows me to share my thoughts, and wishes, and memories that would eventually be misplaced or lost had I not done so. I hope to write much more about my son in the days to come, and I hope you will be along to read about him and share in my memories.
Happy Birthday, Steve.
In response to one of my other postings, a fellow SharedWords member made the following comment: “In years to come pieces of your writing, like this blog, will be treasures to you and your family.â€
I hope she’s right.
I’m sure it’s the wish of everyone who writes to have their words remembered long after they were written, and still longer after they have left this world. In days past, this was a lot tougher to do because of more limited access to the tools a person needed to create and properly preserve their work. In this age of word processors, CDs/DVDs, the Internet, and instant publishing, almost anyone with an idea and a keyboard can write and preserve it for posterity, even if they use nothing more than cryptic abbreviations (i.e. text messaging) or write one short sentence at a time (i.e. Twitter). And soon enough, even a keyboard won’t be needed – there are several very good speech-to-text converters on the market that take spoken words and type them out on a computer screen, and each year this technology continues to improve.
So, it seems nowadays anyone can acquire the tools to write words and make them last. But, even with all those things at everyone’s disposal, some people seem more destined to be remembered for their writing than others. Why?
Here’s my opinion: A person’s writings are better remembered for the feelings and emotions they stir within the reader than for the words themselves. On their own, words are lifeless and bland; but, in the hands of a talented writer, they can be brought to life and filled with color, leaving behind all manner of feeling and emotion as they tell their story. The better a person can accomplish that,  I believe, the more likely their writings will be remembered in the years to come.
So now I ask myself: will the things I’m writing today be remembered tomorrow?
I’d like to think so, but only time will tell for sure.
