She was one,
one of the thirty six,
one of the thirty six righteous men
who keep their lamps lit,
bringing light to this generation.
Her flame extinguished in this world
but her soul shines on
in brilliance and love.
Dedicated to the memory of Verla Simmons, truly a good person and my friend.
I dreamt of you last night
But not really
I didn’t see you or hear your voice
Maybe
It was more the essence of you
The idea of you
In a photograph
Or a thought
I dreamt of you last night
But not really
It was more that you were
Still in my world
There was no feeling of loss
Or grief
Or sorrow
But not really
I dreamt of you last night
And woke to you missing
Gone so long ago
But not really
Gone just today
Again
*** Dreamed of my dad last night – gone almost 19 years now – still miss him everyday.
Cotton Field
I walk the gravel path
Along the field ready for harvest
The morning breeze
Catches the flags
In a steady percussion
I hear the pipes
As the tall black percheron horse
Comes into view
Pulling its flag draped wagon.
I think of the old king
On his funeral bier
A country man, a veteran of foreign wars
Whose long reign
Kept the warring factions in an uneasy peace
Knowing that at his death
His kingdom would soon divide itself
Into civil and uncivil war.
I watch as the princes of your house
Bring you to your final resting place
And I know
That for the rest of my life
I will never see a field
In full and glorious cotton
And not think of you.
the dawning sun across the horizon as we speed along the rice fields of eastern missouri
family – we have become the older generation
floral tributes at the altar – beautiful colors of roses – some as big a two open hands
men standing to bear witness to the life of their friend – his Christian faith, humor, love of family
tall percheron horse – shining black, slick as oil – waiting for the flag draped casket
a cemetery surrounded by cotton fields ready for harvest – the blue of the morning sky – the sound of bag pipes playing Amazing Grace
my husband, his brother and the men of the family in the solemn walk behind the wagon
the snap of the flags in the morning air – men standing at attention – crisp navy uniforms
beautiful children – legacy of love
early morning snowfall in the NC mountains
breathtaking beauty of Tennessee – the color of fall – the mountains and fields
from home to home to home again
Dear friends,
Bob’s step father ‘Pop’ passed away this afternoon. We will be leaving for North Carolina tonight. So I will be out of pocket for a week or so.
William Sawrey Sr was a fine gentleman who adored Bob’s mom. Bob’s father had been killed in a car accident a year or so before Bill began courting Miriam, Bob’s mom. He married her when she was a widow with 6 children under the age of 14. And they preceded to have four more of their own. And if he had just sheltered, clothed and fed these kids, he would have stars in his crown, but he made sure they each had the extra little things, band instruments, uniforms, cars when they learned to drive, vacations in the NC mountains and even to Disneyworld. He was a fine man and raised a fine man, which I am eternally grateful for – and I loved him very much.
So, dear friend, I will talk to you in a few days. Take care and stay well.
K
Running With Scissors
For C
Running with scissors is her M O, not caring
the tearing that her soul brings to the fore.
Silver flashing blades of grass beneath her feet,
grasping the consequences of all her actions.
Moving through Time and Dreams,
her mother’s voice is calling,
calling, calling to the future of what was
and will not be again. The remembrance
of remorse and tears unshed, of grief,
freely given and taken, when all that is left
is love, forgiveness, and unanswered prayer.
— Kathleen G. Everett © 2012
She was a hobo when we first met. Being out on her own for some length of time, she was wary and felt she could fend for herself. On first sight, she appeared more spider monkey than dog. So thin, it made her legs look long, her bright eyes in a bushy face, and sparce pig hair on the rest of her body. But Bob fell in love with her and she came home with us. After getting her fattened up and a good grooming, it was apparent that she was a schnauzer. Then she told us her name – LuLu.
We were fortunate to have had this wonderful creature in our home and hearts for over 12 years. She was lively and spunky with an intelligence that made her an extraordinary dog to be around. She would shake her head and talk – not bark – and fuss at Bob every day when he came home, as if to say, ‘Where have you been – I have been waiting – now come love on me and then give me a frozen blueberry!”
Yes, frozen blueberries were her treats and she would chase after the little frozen marbles of goodness as they skittered across the kitchen floor.
Now, we are bereft and alone for the first time since our second year of marriage. We will mourn and miss this precious little soul. And, yes, we will have another dog. But, truly, LuLu was one of a kind!
I know with all my heart, that she will be at the door of heaven when Bob arrives, shaking her head and fussing at him – ” I have been waiting -I love you – now wheres my blueberry!”
thecourseofourseasons 