Christmas Love

 For me, Christmas memories are joy-filled days. A magical time. A treasured  time. Happiness. Sweet delight.  Anticipation. Excitement. Smiles and laughter. Presents under the tree wrapped with pretty ribbons and bows. The tree decorated with carefully chosen ornaments, some from days of old.  Stockings hung. Homemade cookies, and Mama’s chocolate fudge. Beloved family, and cherished friends gathered together with merriment and good cheer. Watching Holiday movies It’s A Wonderful Life, and The Bishop’s Wife. And listening to Christmas carols The Little Drummer Boy {Come they told me pa- rum pum pum pum} and Silent Night. 

The smell of roasted turkey  baking in the oven. Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cornbread dressing, cranberries, ambrosia, and Pumpkin pie. Deviled eggs, Eggs  Brunch, Patsy’s Pumpkin bread, and Gingerbread. See’s Candy and Hershey’s Candy Kisses. And Garrett’s favorite, chocolate covered cherries.

Santa Claus. Full of Ho Ho Ho and holly jolly. Visiting early at my Mother’s house on Christmas Eve, to surprise  each one there with an unexpected gift. My three year old son, Gavin taking the gift Santa had given him to my Mother, holding it up gently in his hand, wanting to give it back. Sweetly telling her, but Gramma, this isn’t what I asked Santa for. Leaving my Mother to lovingly explain that  Santa would still be visiting later, after we’re all asleep. It was one of those endearing moments we would remember through the years. 

Stars, and angels, and glimmering lights. The story of the Nativity. Midnight Mass. Celebrating the birth of Christ, the Bread of Life. Listening to my husband sing in the church choir as voices joyfully sang, O come, o come let us adore Him.

Throughout our childhood, my brother’s and mine, and that of my son’s, Christmas brought me a feeling of joy, and peace. Contentment. That all was well. Full of promise, and hope. My dear Mother’s influence  had a lot to do with that, and later my husband. And my Dad, and grandparents. That feeling of love, knowing my loved ones were near.  Maybe that’s a good definition of what Christmas is, the love of God being born into the world. Drawing near to us. Born anew, year after year into our heart and home, so that we love in return. And be a gift one to the other. 

                                                              

                                                                                   

*** In loving memory of my Mother, Lenora. My husband, Gary and brother, Walt. For the gift of their sweet love, and all the Christmas’ we shared together. And for my son’s Gavin and Garrett; for the blessing they are to me, and new memories yet to be made. And for my Dad

Gary Dobbs, i am eternally yours

 Last night I dreamt my husband was in bed laying next to me, like he did every night for 45 years. I could feel the warmth of his body and touch of his skin; and knew the familiar smell of him. In my dream I nudged his shoulder and turned on the lamp light, waking him to tell him I thought I heard a noise outside the window. Gary responded, but his voice muffled and I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. Then I woke up. And the sweetness of Gary laying next to me was gone. I lay alone. Missing my husband, and our life together.

I no longer cry daily, but the tears still come. I carry on, but my heart remains sad. I’m homesick for my husband. His hand holding mine, and the routine of our daily life together, and how good it was.

I speak with friends, many who have lost their husband, too. Each of us in different stages of grief. Each of us missing, and lonely for our mate. All agreeing it’s not easy. Some days harder than others. But each cherishing the memory of our married years, of our spouse no longer here. And being a support to one another. Not at the same time - at different times whenever needed. Never knowing just when that might be. 

Today, October 10 is one of those anniversaries I don’t look forward to.  At 2 p.m. today it will be two years since Gary passed away. Written in my mind, on my heart, in my spirit I am drawn to Gary on the hospice bed in our TV room. Me snuggled next to him. His arms wrapped about me. Saying our goodbyes and expressing our love for each other. Our faces flooded with tears. Trusting God’s angels of mercy will carry Gary gently through Heaven’s gate. And there he’ll be until we meet again. 

*** Grateful am I for family and dear friends to help see me through; this morning at church, Gretchen quietly came beside  me in the pew I was sitting to give me an arrangement of roses freshly cut from her garden, telling me it was for Gary and me, a special remembrance of Gary on this day. It warmed my heart beyond measure.                                                       

 And then a lovely email from sweet friend, Sue G.,  encouraging me, reminding me : Like stars outshine the darkest night, LOVE outshines a single lifetime. And so it does.

                    

In memory of my darling husband, Gary Dobbs. I carry you in my heart ♥️ forever and always.  December 14, 1940 - October 10, 2020 

Dear Walt

                                                                          

September 4, 2022

Dear Walt,

Today is your birthday. You’d be 68 years old. I woke up thinking about you, trying to imagine what you’d look like now, wondering if your hair would still be the color of Mom’s? With threads of grey, but not fully grey. And what you’d be doing. Would you be retired ?, spending days fishing for Bass, or taking Road Trips on your Harley. Would you still live in Ballwin? Or someplace else? That special place  you dreamed about? 

Would you have your same fun sense of humor, and easy to laugh charm? And dress in stylish clothes, just like you stepped off the pages of GQ?  Most surely, you’d have a dog. Would it be another Heeler? And her name? Maybe, Betsey 2.  I remember Casey, the beautiful Irish Setter you once had. How he ate the fur off the collar of my new coat, and would jump over the back yard fence. You loved that dog, and said he was just lively. 

I thought how we might play a game of Monopoly (Patty and I still laugh about that marathon game we played sitting at the dining room table at our home on Flora. How you were teasing me about becoming a land baron, buying up all the properties when i quickly took your cigarette out of the ashtray and burnt down all your hotels. The look on Patty’s face, and how you just laughed and laughed), or Cribbage like we once did. And sit and have a beer together, although mine is now non-alcoholic, and maybe yours would be,too. And talk and reminisce about our wonderful life and good times we shared. You might ask me again if I wanted to take a road trip with you on your Harley. This time I’d say yes.

I love you little brother. And miss you lots. 

Your sister, 

Kathy

P.s. I’m wondering too, if Mother and Gary have stopped by? Are they there with you now?  Give them big hugs and kisses from me (I sure hope they have hugs in Heaven).

                                                         

            *Walt with his nephew, Gavin. A favorite photo of mine 

                                                        

Summer Rain August 2022

 Summer rain

so very welcome

drenching dry ground,

and providing needed 

drink to refresh wilted flowers 

and  thirsty trees.

Lightening pierces the dark sky

and thunder rumbles loudly

Raindrops fall atop the

red umbrella I sit under

on an old wood rocker.

There’s something peaceful

about listening to the steady

beat of the rain, like repeating 

a mantra to help soothe the soul

I ponder, are they 

tears from Heaven

of dear ones there?

Sad for those sad without them here

But in observing the rain

and pondering some more

Perhaps tears of joy

for true love claimed

Farewell, My Sweet Maggie May

When we first got her she seemed shy, and a little sad. The folks at the Animal Shelter told us she was three, and had been shuffled around more than once; her name was Maggie. To which we added Maggie May, Black Maggie (because her hair was coal black), Maggie Doodle (because she was a Labradoodle), and sometimes we just called her Mags.                                         

It didn’t take Maggie Doodle long to adapt to her new environment, and in a short time any shyness, and sadness was replaced with what seemed a happy liveliness, and doggie contentment.  Our home then was nestled in on 10 wooded acres above Rockford Bay on Lake Coeur d Alene. Maggie loved being outside; roaming and running through the trees. She reminded me of a racehorse stretching her legs full gait, knowing only one speed - fast! Especially when chasing after tennis balls Gary and I would throw. It would take her no time at all to find, and retrieve. Maggie would run and chase balls all day if we let her. 

A stranger couldn’t sneak up on Maggie undetected, making her a great watchdog, and she knew several words, too: Outside, walk, ball, bed, Dad, dinner, treat, Cheerios, cheeseball. Cheerios became her favorite food, and thought it a fun game when I’d take a handful and throw them out back for her to search for, find, then eat.

We’ve always had dogs. Yes, often more than one dog at a time.  Gary doted on them all. When he became ill with Alzheimer’s, he focused even more attention on Maggie. And she responded in kind, always wanting to please; staying by his side, alerting me if he was trying to get out of bed, or his red leather recliner chair. She would come to wherever I was at - the front room, bathroom or kitchen nudge my leg and turn back toward Gary, waiting for me to follow.                                      

After my darling Gary passed away, Maggie May transferred all her loyalty, devotion, protective eye to me. I think she sensed my great sorrow at the loss of both my husband and my Mother, and we became even better pals, eating our meals together and watching TV.  Mags liked watching TV a lot.

 Sadly, the last few months Maggie’s health rapidly declined, her body wearing out, and needing my help to get up, to walk, go outside, lay down. Her once well toned, muscled body now like a rack of bones. Still, it has been a difficult decision. I felt as in some way with no Maggie here I’d be losing another little piece of Gary. It has only been with the loving help of dear friends (answered prayer) I was able to see it’s time to let sweet Maggie go. So, this morning with tears flooding my eyes, and friends standing near  Dr. Jenny came to the house. I snuggled Maggie one last time and rubbed her ears. I held  her face in my hands and kissed the top of her head. And said a final farewell to our ever faithful, loyal and loving Maggie Doodle.

 I believe it’s true. All dogs go to Heaven.  And as Maggie crosses that rainbow bridge to the other side, I’m pretty sure it’s my Gary Dobbs waiting there at the gate to welcome her through 

                                                       

                                                     

*Heartfelt thanks to dear, and caring friends Denise, Jeanne, Sue, Debbie and Chuck. Dr. Jenny Linstron,  and Clarkston Vet

Let Freedom Ring

 The 4th of July

an all American holiday

celebrating  Independence, and freedom

of speech

of worship

from fear

and want

No taxation without representation 

The Declaration proclaiming

unalienable rights;

Life

Liberty and the

Pursuit of happiness 

Self evident truths made clear;

liberty and equality 

endowed by our Creator

The brotherhood of man, and sisterhood

Fireworks

Hot dogs

Parades

the gathering of family and friends

in someone’s backyard, at the beach

or in the park

Watching Yankee Doodle Dandy on TV

Waving the flag

and singing God Bless America

Memorial Day Past, Memorial Day Present

Memorial Day

a day originally 

set aside 

to recall 

and remember

World War I 

inspired by a poem

a place of the battle dead

Flanders Field.

Red Poppies

Veterans

Cemeteries

Loved Ones gone

And now, too

Parents

Grandparents and Great-Grandparents

Uncles and Aunts

a Brother

Sister

a Spouse

and friends

To memorize, like a favorite Bible verse, and hold dear tender moments with our cherished beloved no longer here.

 To honor them and their story;

 and stories of ancestors we never knew except those handed down from one family member to another. Each a part of the fabric of life,  adding to who we are. I think of my great-great uncle, Andrew Gavin Norton who died of influenza in France in WWI. I picture him close in age to my hero, my Grandpa Cooney, who also fought in France during WWI. I wonder if they knew each other. If they were on the same ship going overseas. If they were in the same camp. While my Mother never knew her uncle, she always referred to him as Uncle Andy and would tell my brother and me stories about him , and of his sad demise in the First World War,  and how his younger siblings looked up to him; our Uncle Joe and Uncle Lee and Aunt Nor and Grandma Blanche,  and how his Mother, our great great Grandmother, Mary Gavin Norton -  who passed away when I was 9, received a check for six dollars from  the U.S. government every year until her passing because her oldest  son died in France during the Great war.  My Mother would tell how she,  with her family would drive 91 miles from Council Bluffs to Odebolt  every Memorial Day - their car loaded with freshly picked Peonies  from their yard to lay at gravesites at St. Martin’s cemetery there. Including Uncle Andy’s. Mother would always smile telling of this special time and  how they would sing, and eat a sack lunch on the way, and visit all day with Aunt Mag, and other extended family listening to tales of far away Ireland.

                                                       

 

In a recent text from my cousin, Shauna she mused , even though Memorial Day is tearful and bittersweet, those who know great loss continue to lovingly celebrate those who have gone ahead. And I do mean “ahead”, K- Minnie. Remember when we were little and veterans dressed in their uniform would hand out little red artificial poppies? At the time, and having no real reference to their meaning, I just thought it was so sweet that they loved red flowers and wanted to share them. Every Memorial weekend from probably age 4 to 12, I would wait at the kitchen window and watch for Grandma and Grandpa Packard (Shauna’s maternal grandparents) to pull in the driveway . I sat in the backseat of their red Lincoln, a little space saved just for me next to the side window, and the rest of the backseat and floor was filled with buckets of water exploding with peonies and roses from their garden. The trek began. No freeways! So we meandered through SLC, Provo, Springville, Spanish Fork stopping at all the cemeteries. My grandma had 11 siblings. So there were uncles and aunts and great this and that. They would bring folding chairs, picnic baskets and visit all day; talking, greeting. Tears, laughter, hugs, homegrown flowers, memories. A slower time and pace. They knew what helped mend broken hearts. They had experienced a lot of it. All of it cathartic, to help those who hadn’t yet gone.

I appreciate all my cousin shared; her sweet reminiscing about loving grandparents, and Memorial Day past. 

About this day, and what it really represents; the remembrance of others no longer on this earth. Of those who have died defending our country, his or her great sacrifice to a cause beyond themselves. 

May 30, 2010 brought another kind of Memorial Day remembrance to me, and to our family. The sudden, unexpected death of my younger brother, Walt. He was 55, and suffered from a massive heart attack. No goodbyes, no last hugs, or gentle words. He was gone in a matter of seconds. My baby brother, whom I adored from the moment Mama brought him home from the hospital.  And our Mother and Dad, so heartbroken and sad.

                                                         

 In giving the eulogy at my brother’s funeral 12 years ago, I read one of  e.e. cummings most poignant poems. Since then my precious Mother and darling husband have passed away. So today,  Memorial Day 2022 I once again share this poem by e.e. Cummings. For Walt, our Mother and Gary. I remember them with clarity and deep love. Longing for their presence, to make me whole again. Until then I trust somehow they’ll know, 

 i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) 

i am never without it (anywhere I go my dear, 

and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows 

here is the root of the root and bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide 

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Her Name is Mother

There is only one above all others

Her name is Mother

For she is the first to hold us near,

To gaze at us through loving eyes

To kiss our cheek, and 

whisper our name

To love us simply, and beautifully

for just being born

It remains with us through all our years

Her sweet, unconditional love

and guiding hand

And when her time comes

to leave this earth

(and our sorrow is great)

We take comfort in knowing

Her lasting light remains 

forever, within our heart

*** For my beloved Mother. So blessed am i to be your daughter. & For my Sons. So grateful i am to be your Mom

May 2. Our Wedding Anniversary

 You seem to be doing well they say. Accepting. Adapting. Getting along since he’s been gone. How long has it been now? A year and a half?

 I smile. But inside, I cringe and sigh. And think of  the tears I shed alone. Feeling lost.  Still trying to find myself without the one I loved so intimately. The feel, and smell of him. The touch of his skin next to mine. The sound of his voice asking, Have I told you today that I love you? Or Would you marry me all over again ? And how we would say to one another, always kiss before you say goodbye.   How I was his Kathleen, and he my Gary Gene. 

                                                   

Today, May 2 is our wedding anniversary. I reflect on our many years together. All that we lived, and shared, and how good it was - building a business, making a home, raising a family. Sharing disappointments, and dreams fulfilled. Laughter and tears. Playing together, praying together, growing together;  we were lovers, and the closest of friends. Early on in our marriage, Gary’s dad said to me, I’m glad you’re in Gary’s life. You help calm him. In truth, we helped calm each other, and boost one another. We were very much in sync. Comfortable, and happy together in living the routine of our married life. An observer might say, seems rather ordinary.  I’d smile, and tell them no, not ordinary at all, but most extraordinary, and lovely the life my husband and I shared together.  After all, isn’t it the ordinary of shared life together day after day, night after night, year after year that blossoms into the extraordinary? The blending of two hearts into one, and soulmates eternal?  So Gary Dobbs, if you’re asking now somewhere from your heavenly perch, would I marry you again? You already know the answer my dearest darling, in a heartbeat. Again, and again. 

Happy Anniversary to us, Gary Gene ♥️

 I love you forever and always, your Kathleen

                                                       

  

April 24. A Very Special Birthday

 She was a woman who listened with her heart. Kind. Caring. Fun. One who naturally, and genuinely spoke an encouraging word to those in need. Whether it be a dear friend, or stranger. From an early age I had observed whoever she was with she made  feel special; by giving them her undivided time, by being present to them and letting  them know what they said, and shared was important to her.

                                                   

Filled with faith. She was steadfast and true. Easy to be around. Easy to laugh. Easy to love. She would say if you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all. She always saw the glass half full, and believed, and trusted the Lord would provide. 

Hard working and persevering at her job away from home, and at home; raising two children and providing a joyful, peaceful, secure atmosphere where love abounded. Her kids and grandsons adored her, and she them. She was talented and creative, but unassuming. Blessed with a generous spirit. An avid reader, especially poetry, she would read aloud to her son and daughter from the time they were very young: Eugene Field, Longfellow, Edgar A. Guest, Dickinson, James Whitcomb Riley and others.  

My brother and I cherished those times!  I always knew how fabulous and lovely Mother was, how lucky Walt and I were she was our Mom. Especially now feeling the void, the emptiness of her not being here, physically near to hear her voice. For her to read aloud one more time from one of her favorite books.

Today, April 24 is my Mother’s birthday. She would be 89. Mother, my brother, Walt and my husband are gone - called to their heavenly home. I long for them, lonely for their presence. I picture them together, and listen for their laughter as they celebrate Mom, and smile. Remembering. It was a good time. It was the best time. It seemed a short time. But such a good time. It was a party just being near you .

Happy Birthday, my dearest, most darling  Mother! Oh! How I love you. Forever and always. … your daughter, Kathy 

To Pause, and Pray (Merry Christmas)

                                                                            

Throughout the four weeks of Advent, a time of reflection and waiting, we take time to pause from the distractions that keep us away from growth of spirit and unselfish love.  We search, and search until finally we can point ahead to the light piercing the darkness. The bright star beaming down from Heaven in that great and glorious moment. Leading us forward to the Son of God. The Son of Mary. The Christ child born to heal our brokenness with His gifts of  hope, peace and joy. We kneel, bow our heads and pray, thank you God for Christmas Day!

 

Thanksgiving

 Here in America Thanksgiving Day is to commemorate that first Thanksgiving centuries ago. I recall in grade school we’d draw pictures of Pilgrims and turkeys and Indians; corn and cornucopia and autumn leaves. Plymouth Rock. Mother, Walt and I would gather at my Grandmother’s  house for traditional Turkey dinner; mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, creamed corn, green beans,  dressing and cranberries. Pumpkin pie. The smell from the kitchen sublime. We could hardly wait to sit down and eat. The table set so lovely and nice with Grandma Viv’s Vernon Ware. Memories happy and sweet. 

                                                 

 Youthful days pass away. Then, happily ever after married life, and children of my own; Gavin and Garrett. Tradition carries on. Now including Patsy’s Pumpkin bread and my husband’s favorite, Cornbread dressing. Card games, football games, Mom reading a favorite poem aloud, and family prayer giving thanks. 

We all have something to be thankful for. Another day of life, and love. 

The past. Our dear ones gone before us. So very much a part of us. Forever. Wherever we go. Whatever we do.

 The present. Our beloved family still here, and the great blessing they are.  Trusted lifelong friends, and new friends found - to share, and help shape our character.

 The future. Of whom we shall become. Hope in the promise of eternity, and God’s Divine Providence 

To give thanks for this moment. For this time. For this place. For what was; for what is to come. And always God’s tender mercies, His great grace.

***Thanksgiving 2021. An empty chair for my dear Mother and Gary. For my brother, Walt. Their presence never to be forgotten or wiped away. Only sadness at them not being here. But joy in remembering who they were, what they brought in being near . 

 Thanksgiving. 

The Wind Storm, and Pondering ….

                                                                                   

                                                                          

 A mighty wind storm tonight. It’s gusts billowing through the trees, the sound of broken branches snapping, cracking, falling to the ground. There’s a tapping, clanking noise at the outside door, like someone knocking wanting to come in; The windows rattle while backyard chimes sway, making music, like a melodic song. I’m reminded of Dylan’s famous lyrics  how many miles must a man (woman) walk down? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. I listen. And wait. And wonder. But to me the answers not clear. The wind with its whistling, harrowing, sometimes unsettling sound. Swift and powerful. Then a lull and all is quiet. Eerie. Especially in the dark of night. Yet, peaceful. I warm my back in front of the fireplace. And ponder.  The times of our life passes so quickly by. And we’re left with only photographs, and the memory of, if we’re lucky. Of loved ones we spent a lifetime with now gone. Of family and friends we’ve known since childhood, and other dear ones more recent. How do I make a difference? Especially to those I love. By choosing to be kind. Forgiving. To hold no malice, but to understand. To lend a hand, to share a smile. To give to another what so many have given me. A listening ear and time.  So what did I learn this windy night? The answer, my friend isn’t blowing in the wind, but in the quiet of our heart.

Leaves

                                                      

In summer, leaves so lush and lovely upon the trees 

provide shade and beautiful shadows 

with varied colors of green

Then seasons change, and their color

turns from green to a brilliant red, yellow and orange

And the leaves begin to fall away 

Covering  damp ground like a quilted blanket

(only to be raked into piles, and bagged)

Leaving the Redbud and Mock Cherry and Maple

with empty, barren branches; 

to stand alone through another winter

A Perfect Fit

 We remember each birthday with celebration, sending cards and giving gifts. Eating cake and ice cream. Having a party to mark we’re another year older; thankful for the gift of life. But how do we remember a death day? When someone departs this world, leaving loved ones behind. There’s no joyous party or celebration every year. It’s a somber, bittersweet day of remembering a loved one saying their final goodbye, that last embrace and tender kiss.  

But in the sadness there’s also a sweet remembrance of who that person was, the cherished moments shared, and how very good it was. 

                                                  

October 10. Today is one year since my husband, Gary passed away. And October 26, three years since my Mother gone. There’s not one day I don’t think of them, and miss them.  Anticipating this date, but not looking forward to it I decided to look through our family photos, and was surprised at the joy it brought me; to see, and recall the big and little, the ordinary and not so ordinary times of our life together. The word blessed can sometimes be over used, but truly Gary and I were blessed. In our marriage, in our friendship, in our sons; in the faith we shared.  Gary and I not perfect people, but we were a perfect fit one to another. So this day, the day of my husbands passing, I celebrate him; the good, kind, fun, generous, hard working, faithful man he was. And am ever grateful for our many years together. 

I love you for all eternity, Gary Dobbs. I carry you in my heart  

Your Kathleen.

Of Love and Good Cheer

                             

October 1. A beautiful Fall day.

Writing words of love and good cheer

to say i believe in you my friend, 

and all you can do

Don’t be discouraged, nor dismayed

Know God is with you today,

and everyday. And your loved 

ones, too,gone before. Praying

that all be well, and your path be smooth

as you journey forward 

on life’s unknown trail

Plan and Purpose

 i know the words of Scripture, trust and believe. And i do. Believe. That God has a plan and purpose. Life. And death. Our souls in eternity. Still, like a spoiled child, i stomp my feet and pout wanting my Gary here with me. And my Mother, and brother. To hear Mom’s voice, like she used to do, telling me to take a deep breath, to be still and know that all will be well. And my husband with his confidence, and conviction giving me confidence, too. And my brother with his sweetness and easy laughter making me laugh. 

For the first time in my life i live alone. Figuring things out on my own. But then i remember, except for God. He who is always near, and will see me through. Until one day, some day i will meet up again with those i love dear… and His great glory

                                            

                                     

Music to Words

                                

                                

If only to compose music to words i write

What tune would it carry? Lilting and sweet 

A song of beauty

uplifting the soul; of thanks and hope and being grateful 

Caring, sharing, fairing one well. To inspire.

Dancing to the music and singing out loud

Laughter.

To create, and celebrate 

Fellowship and friendship

Family forever

To hold hands, and share love

one to another 

In a circle unbroken

in a circle unbroken

Woven round and round

and inside out

On earth, and in Heaven

Never to end

never to end 

Love, family and friends

Are There Balloons in Heaven? (Updated)

 September 4. Today would be my brother Walt’s 67th birthday, but I wonder how old he would be in Heaven? Is he ageless? Or forever young? Does he look like the carefree, happy fellow from days of his youth, or like the mature, handsome man he was when departing this earth at age 55?

Is he celebrating with saints and angels, and our beloved Mother, Lenora and my husband, Gary; with grandparents, aunts and uncles and cherished family friends gathered together in the celestial realm? Are there balloons and presents, or are such things only for this time and place?

Is he looking through Heaven’s window? and smiling to see his dear Dad, and all those who love him still. Remembering him, recalling the joy he brought into our life. I have a strong feeling the answer is yes; not only smiling, but loving us back.

I’m sure Heaven is lit up a little brighter today, and the Angelic choir in joyous harmony as they sing Happy Birthday to my little brother. And the gift he receives? The perfect gift of Eternal life; seeing the Savior face to face. Renewal. Restoration. Made whole. Reunion with those he loved, and who loved him. Like David of old, I picture Walt dancing for joy; and our sweet Mother and Gary rejoicing, and dancing with him.

                                                          

*Happy Heavenly Birthday, Walt! Give Mom and Gary a hug from me

** The original of this blog published September 2017. Since then both my Mother and husband have passed through Heaven’s door. This updated blog reflects that

All Different, Yet the Same

We’re all different, every one of us; yet we’re the same. In wanting to be loved and cared for. Needed. To succeed in our life’s dream, Whatever it might be. A poet laureate. A Master Chef. The President. We’re all different, every one of us: yet the same. Longing for peace, and freedom to express our faith, and share love and friendship,  and happy times with family and friends. We’re all different, everyone of us; yet the same. Created by the Creator; our souls longing for, pursuing, seeking the Heavenly realm. Even if unknown or not aware. We’re searching.                                      

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