My Brother's Passing; A Mother's Heart

                                                                      

My brother passed away 15 years ago today. May 30, 2010. Walt was 55.   Every year since both my father and I have remembered Walt by writing about him, some little anecdote or sweet memory about his life.  And the binding  impact he had on our life, and the lives of all who knew and loved him. Especially our Mother.  Mom passed in 2018.  But only two weeks ago did I come across some folded pages I found tucked away in one of her journal's. Reading  her words, in her handwriting brought me to tears.  So on this anniversary of my brother's passing it is not my telling, and remembering,  but my beloved Mother's. Sharing a mother’s heartache at the loss of her only son. 

About May 30, 2010

Four months ago my world was quite ok. It was May 30. A bright and sunny Sunday - summer was on the way - Summer never came or if it did I didn't notice.  

That sunny day in May my son called - Hi Mom ! The dogs doing great. We were both happy about that - I'm coming home in June he said, to help you. The day was good - Early evening a phone call - He's dead ! Who - who- What- I can't understand you- Kerri's voice - It's Walt - he's dead- This is a mistake, a big mistake.  How can your mind go so blank - 

You are talking but you can't hear what you are saying - you think you are having a stroke - a nightmare. Whatever - it can't be real - 

We'll be there - we'll be there. Kerri needs us now. 

Oh my God in Heaven give me the strength - I don't think I can, I have to, no I can't. I must call his sister, my daughter. Her heart will break - the hardest, worse call I have ever made.

Jan 2, 2011

Another 4 months is gone. Christmas came & went, New Years - now it's Jan 5, 2011- In another 4 months it will be 1 year - No more to hear his 'Hi Mom'- his laugh, to listen to a plan he has - They say it will pass & get better - but wait - wait a minute here - nothing will pass. Are you kidding me. I never ever want the sound of his voice to "pass". The sound of his laughter - "to pass". I want to hear him saying 'Mom I love you & my sister more than you'll ever know -  I do hear it, I do see him in my minds eye. To me my children were always beautiful & loving & fun - I'll always see them. I'll always hear them - Nothing has changed - Now don't think I'm nuts - Walt has moved on to wait for us - but he is still my son ! He is still Kathy's little brother.  No, no, no I don't want anything "to pass”

And this entry, so loving and tender. 

The Same Sat aft.

I just walked out to the mail box & back. Sometimes I like getting mail, sometimes I don't.

The very worst thing came in my mail box today - my Son, my darling, my ever loved son Walt's death certificate - Nobody, nobody ever should have to look on or read their son's death certificate - only 55 years ago I was reading his Birth certificate. I was 21, he was 2 days old - Life & love was new & wonderful. My 4 year old daughter, Kathy was waiting at home to enfold him in her little arms. We will never hold him again - Kathy is now 60 years old & I'm almost 78 - Now you might think or say 55 yrs is a long time- It isn't -

The little hands that stroked your face - the little feet you kissed - the sky blue eyes smiling up at you. Ohhh -  

Kathy's baby brother he will always be - I sit at my kitchen table looking out at the beautiful blue sky - But- it doesn't sparkle like Walt's eyes did. 

You were so loved,Walt.  You are so missed.

                                                             

I know my Mother as an amazing woman. Loving, generous, kind, strong, calm, caring; forgiving.  A woman of deep  faith and prayer. There was never any doubt my brother and I were the gleam in her eye, her pot of gold, the light of her life. And she was everything to us.  So on this anniversary of  Walt's passing I remember my little brother and our Mother, and our life together, and how very good it was. 

       

                                                                         

                                        

                      

The River Walk

                                                 

                                                         

I walk the path down by the river and marvel how each day there is something different to see. One day billowy white clouds, another day dark gray blustery clouds, or maybe no clouds at all, just pale blue sky.  Ducks and geese and white pelicans all very much at home on the shores of their domain. Squirrels scampering through the trees and dogs on leashes excited and happy to be out and about. Young people and old people. Men and women. Some in a group or twosome, but most walk alone. Some leisurely stroll along, others walking as if they’re in a foot race. Most nod or give a cheerful greeting when passing by, adding to the pleasant experience of the walk. If it’s windy I stop to watch the whitecaps on the river and listen to movement of the water slapping the shoreline. It has a steady rhythm, like ocean waves I find peaceful. Some days the river is smooth and calm. No movement at all. Glassy.  Like a mirror reflecting nearby images.  Or an artist’s painting with its shaded hues.  And depending on the time of day, the hills take on varied colors. Sunlit or shadowy. In spring a grassy green highlights the angles and slopes. In summer stark and brown. And in winter it’s not unusual to see the white of snow.  No matter the season, the hills looming over the river have a unique beauty all their own.

Today I pondered what it would be like to walk a longer distance than the two miles I usually do. If I were to go on a spiritual trek and walk miles and miles. What would be my destination? Some far off place or unknown shore?  What would I think of along the way?  Would I observe what was about me and reflect on the greatness of God’s creation. Meditate and pray. Grateful for my feet, my legs, my good health that allows me to be on such a walk? To pray for those God has given me to love, for those who love me? For those who have no one to pray for them; for those who don’t know how to pray.  Maybe I wouldn’t think of anything but be like an empty vessel ready to take in new sights and sounds. Or maybe like the Psalmist instructs, to just be still and know; and grow

                                                     

                           

My daydreaming interrupted by a Canada Goose leading her cute goslings across the trail.  For a few minutes I just stand and watch them.  Each gosling following their mama one after the other.  The mama strutting forward (with posture I wish I had), yet completely aware where her babies are, safe in her care.  I give thanks for my eyes to see, and ears to hear the loveliness of nature, and wildlife.  Perhaps someday I will take that longer spiritual trek, walking miles and miles seeking a special destination.  Until then I’ll continue to walk closer to home taking in the sights and sounds of the river and all it brings: beauty, serenity, quiet.  And awesome wonderment.

                                                       

                                                         

* The Snake River flows between Clarkston, WA and Lewiston, ID - the confluence with the Clearwater River and Snake join at Lewiston.  The Snake River was historically used by the Nez Perce people for travel, trade, and fishing. The Snake River also used by Lewis and Clark on their great Northwest expedition. Today the Snake is a waterway for barge traffic and river cruise ships. Especially at the Port of Clarkston