Dear UD,
Today is Dad's
birthday, the first day of March and yours, the 15th, halfway through. 2016,
the year after we lost you both, the year when March limps in without roars,
the year when spring, renewal, rebirth all seem out of reach.
Today, I honor Dad by
remembering his beautiful and eloquent words to me on this day, 16 years ago:
I think all of us tend to look back on our lives on our
birthdays, and solitary reflection is good for the soul…summoning tendrils of
sadness and regret…but bringing also joy and the quiet contentment that comes
with remembrance of things past. On this day I feel doubly blessed to have
lived and loved, and I wanted to share an epiphany that intruded
forcibly…bringing the greatest birthday gift imaginable...an ineffable sense of
wondrous awe. Hovering always at the periphery of conscious thought is the
blessed awareness of the people I love, my fellow traveler through this vale of
tears. But this morning, in pensive solitude…I felt you all as a powerful
presence…as a celestial choir singing the Happy Birthday song…I truly felt you
all as if physically present…our hearts thrumming a delicate refrain of
indescribable loveliness. And I thought that there is great beauty in this
imperfect world…the indescribably sublime wonders of nature…the unutterable
beauty of song…Willie Nelson singing “Always on my Mind”…the baroque
counterpoint of Bach…The Winged Victory of Samothrace standing in Majestic
grace after 23 centuries…fragments of thought from other fellow travelers we
have never met, snatches of incredible poetic utterance…”And the women come and
go, Talking of Michelangelo”… fictional characters we feel we know, like
Yossarion and stately, plump Buck Mulligan. But shining above all of this with
effulgent brightness is the blessed assurance that Love is the one thing that
makes life worthwhile. I think there is a certain amount of wisdom that comes
naturally as we age and mature, and I think walking for a year in the shadow of
darkness has helped me see a great light…like Saul on the road to Damascus…I
see how we are transported by love to any earthly paradise beyond
description…that love for intimates, affection for friends, and good will
towards everybody…redeems our tenuous lives and makes our transient pilgrimage
significant. For above all else, I am assured that our love is a pearl of great
price, a solitary Rose blooming in a wasteland. I love you, Honey. Dad
Flash forward to 2009,
the last of his birthdays I celebrated with him in person. A trip to the
Crawford farm, snowed in by a blizzard which blanketed the world in white, nestled in with family for cards, movies, music, and birthday cake, and a trudge through
the snow with some of the younger kids.
I remember more clearly
my last time celebrating anything with Dad. Christmas 2014. During the last
week of his life, Dad remarked that he was glad he had moved back to the Ozarks,
to the family farm, because it was home.
You, too, moved back to
Missouri, near family. Home is where the heart is.
Yesterday, or so it
seems, you said I was… and then my girls were… growing up too fast. If only you
and Dad were still here to see them (and all 20 plus of the next generation) grow into their talents and careers and lives.
Now it's their turn to ask, Do I dare
disturb the universe? But I wouldn't want to be there (young adults who
have to find their way) in this postmodern society. You, Dad, Eliot, all three of
you pondered, probed this extraordinary, harsh, dark, and lovely world. If only
both of you were still here to share your wisdom and counsel.
Today, I honor Dad with
a movie marathon of some of his favorites. From the hilarious and beyond cool
Blues Brothers to Kiss me, Kate to the mysteries of Agatha Christie to the
bumbling Colombo played by Peter Faulk to the sharp and witty Sherlock Holmes. At least I will watch as many as possible after work, and I will laugh and cry, but love these classics and the memories they inspire.
Today, I light a candle
for Dad, and on the 15th I’ll light one for you. You were both such a
blessing in our lives in so many ways, and we are blessed to call you family. So
I declare March birthdays a blessing. Happy birthday, Dad. Happy birthday,
Uncle David.
We miss you both more than
words can say.
Love,
Rach
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