In praise of a friend

I love your ever-present, overflowing tidbits of knowledge.
Your ability to speak eloquently
Your many faceted interests
Your capacity to listen kindly to a woman’s woes

Your beautiful brown eyes,
Especially when they smile .
The glow of your skin

The soft way your hair falls across your forehead
The quickness of your mind

The extemporaneous witticisms you create.
Your warm smile
The melodic tonal quality of your voice


Your capacity to put to memory
A thousand lines of poetry (Awesome!)

Your eccentric taste in clothing
Your level-headed rationality
Your thriftiness

Your capacity to maintain protection over your deep feelings
Your ability to keep a modicum of controlled fairness,
when opinions are flung far and wide around you.

Your cool reserve
The way you carry yourself.

Elizabeth Munroz - 1989
Dedicated to George Dunn
 

Grimalkin

A grimalkin is an old or evil-looking female cat. The term stems from "gray" (the color) plus "malkin", an obsolete term for a cat, derived from the hypocoristic form of the female name Maud.^[1] Scottish legend makes reference to the grimalkin as a faery cat which dwells in the highlands.

The term/name may first come from Beware the Cat (published 1570) by William Baldwin ^[2], who relates the story of Grimalkin's death. According to its editors, the story, and thus the name, originates with Baldwin. It is also spelled Grimmalkin or Grimolochin.
During the early modern period, the name grimalkin - and cats in general - became associated with the devil and witchcraft. Women tried as witches in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries were often accused of having a familiar, frequently a grimalkin.
Grimalkin was the name of the cat of Nostradamus^[3], and later the witches' cat "Gray-Malkin" in Macbeth^[4] by William Shakespeare.

In Tom Jones, Henry Fielding relates a story from a 17th-century collection of fables in which Grimalkin is a cat whose owner falls passionately in love with her. He prays to Venus, who changes the cat into a woman. Lying in bed, however, she spots a mouse and leaps up after it, "Puss, even when she's a Madam, will be a mouser still."

In Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, Mr. Lockwood shares a set of two benches in the back kitchen of Healthcliff's manor with a Grimalkin described as a "brindled, grey cat, which crept from the ashes, and sluted me with a querulous mew."
Nathaniel Hawthorne, in The House of Seven Gables, Ch. XVI, mentions "...a strange grimalkin... was seen by Hepzibah while she was looking into the back-yard garden for Clifford." In the next sentence he gives definition to grimalkin as "...this cat seemed to have more than ordinary mischief in his thoughts,..."

The Godolphin Arabian, one of the stallions that helped found the line of Thoroughbred racing horses, was very close to a companion cat called Grimalkin. (Racehorses tend to be very high-strung and nervous animals, and often form a close bond with a companion animal; the tactic of trying to sabotage a race by abducting a racehorse's companion animal the night before the race is thought to have given rise to the term "getting someone's goat.")

In the television show "Batman", and later "The New Adventures of Batman", Catwoman (played by Eartha Kitt) operated the Grimalkin Novelty Company, at the corner of Cattail Lane and Nine Lives Alley.

In the 2008 series "Power Rangers: Jungle Fury", the pizza parlor Jungle Karma Pizza, which serves as a social hangout for the show's main cast, houses a pinball machine going by the name Grimalkin Gauntlet.

The governess/witch in the novel The Midnight Folk by John Masefield has two familiars named Greymalkin and Blackmalkin.

A grimalkin is briefly mentioned in The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath by H.P. Lovecraft, in which sentient cats play a major role.
In the Wardstone Chronicles, written by Joseph Delaney, Grimalkin is the name given to the assassin witch of the Malkin family.
In Jim Butcher's novel Small Favor, a large cat named Grimalkin appears with Mab, Winter Queen of the Faeries.

Grimalkin is used by Mab as a surrogate voice for an unknown reason. It is suggested that he belongs to a species of such cats known as malk.

In the video game BlazBlue: Calamity Trigger when Hakumen is defeated as the sub-boss of the game for all default characters (not counting Jin, the aforementioned Hakumen himself, and v -13-), he is suddenly warped out of the battlefield, all the while angrily yelling, "How dare you interrupt me, Grimalkin!" When he says that, he is referring to his mistress, Kokonoe. The Grimalkin in BlazBlue is a species of cat-like people, with three known Grimalkins being Taokaka, the aforementioned Kokonoe, and the original Grimalkin, Jubei.

In Gregory Maguire's novel A Lion Among Men, the cowardly lion, Brrr, has a "glass cat" companion who is later discovered to be named Grimalkin.

Thank you wikipedia

Photo Friday - Favorite Recent Photo

I couldn't choose a single favorite photo out of these pictures I took of my neighbor. So, I chose them all and put them in this slide show. Her name is Liz Valencia. I wanna be her when I grow up!

I'm not sure exactly her age, but somewhere around 79 if I recall correctly. She's been telling me this for quite sometime. You would think I could figure it out. But alas, the facts have eluded me.

I've asked Liz to drop by whenever she has a dance performance and I will take her picture. She is more than happy to comply. I know she practices at the Senior Center, but performs where ever she and her troop are needed. This woman is full of youthful energy and it is obvious she could dance circles around me.

The dances she performs are done in authentic costume for the area of Mexico the dance originated. So, she has several different costumes, and she looks like a million bucks in each one. The traditional dances of Mexico are called Ballet Folklórico

To Cayuga Creek and Niagara River

Once, there was a dream, never-ending,

flowing greatly within my heart’s happiness.

Capturing the last remnants of summers' heat,

the multi-hued pages of flame,

drifted lightly in the hands of the wind.

I ran alongside the swift stream bed

wondrously chasing the buoyant colors.

And my heart could fly

when it reached land’s end.

No barriers to my joy

I followed the merry journey onward,

through the singing waters.

Until the river opened wide

quickly rushing beneath that grand island bridge.

Leaves excitedly danced,

and took little leaps through the rapids

until they jumped off the crest of the waterfall

to be carried,

once again, by the wind.

Elizabeth Munroz

Stop Searching

Blind Seeker

Somewhere out in the night
A lonely one calls
Seeking that which was never lost.

In it's sad head
It cannot comprehend
What is all around.

The deep indigo night
surrounds it's soul
Yet it will not see
The twinkling starlight.

Open eyes do not see
What the heart requires.
Resignation brings on the search.
Padding across the earth

The lonely one travels far,
Far from home,
Always wondering.

What is the purpose in all this?

All around, in every branch,
And drop of water lies the answer.

Elizabeth Munroz
June 1990

From Last Friday's Post

This is BooBoo, about age 7. She was my mother's cat. 

When Mom and Dad went to a nursing home both their cats came to live with me. 

I put this picture of BooBoo into photoshop and played with it for a while and came up with the picture I posted on Friday.

BooBoo has found another home.

Come join me for some C8H10N4O2

C₈H₁₀N₄O₂, better known as caffeine, is the most wonderful chemical compound known to humankind. 

If the field of chemistry had never identified or produced a single other useful compound, caffeine alone would be justification enough for its existence.

A quote from GeekDad

Heart Wide Open

 

Live each day with

heart wide open, 

take the pain

and the beauty

as it comes.

Life will be easier in the long run.

~Elizabeth Munroz

What to Name It?

When you become aware
you are faced with death,
you begin to live
every moment of your life
to the fullest extent
of your capabilities.

All the troublesome behaviors
others would aim at you
no longer have meaning.
They are not worth
your precious moments.

You take no guff from anyone
and you allow yourself to be free
in order to live out
whatever life you have left
as happily as possible.

Why can't everyone live that free in the first place?

~~~Elizabeth Munroz

Photo Friday - Photo Art

Jessie was 14 when she had her first surgery for a benign bone tumor condition called osteochondromatosis.
She had several surgeries yearly after that, losing her tibia in one of them.
I met her when a number of friends from the MHE support group decided to meet and spend a week together. Jessie died of complications of her last surgery with a blood clot to her heart. This is her pretty smiling face from that time we met, and I must wanted to create something beautiful for her mother.

This was my Mother's cat, BooBoo who came to live with me whilst Mother went to live in a Nursing home.
BooBoo had the sweetest personality. One day I snapped her picture and something told me she had a firey wild self to her, so I put her picture in Photoshop, and worked on it until BooBoo was satisfied!

Why My Dad Lived by Man of La Mancha Story

It is the late sixteenth century. Failed author-soldier-actor and tax collector Miguel de Cervantes has been thrown into a dungeon by the Spanish Inquisition, along with his manservant. They have been charged with foreclosing on a monastery. The two have brought all their possessions with them into the dungeon. There, they are attacked by their fellow prisoners, who instantly set up a mock trial. If Cervantes is found guilty, he will have to hand over all his possessions. Cervantes agrees to do so, except for a precious manuscript which the prisoners are all too eager to burn. He asks to be allowed to offer a defense, and the defense will be a play, acted out by him and all the prisoners. The "judge", a big, burly but good-humored criminal called "the Governor", agrees.
Cervantes takes out a makeup kit from his trunk, and the manservant helps him get into a costume. In a few short moments, Cervantes has transformed himself into Alonso Quijana, an old gentleman who has read so many books of chivalry and thought so much about injustice that he has lost his mind and now believes that he should go forth as a knight-errant. Quijana renames himself Don Quixote de La Mancha, and sets out to find adventures with his "squire", Sancho Panza. They both sing the title song Man of La Mancha (I, Don Quixote).

Don Quixote warns Sancho that the pair are always in danger of being attacked by Quixote's mortal enemy, an evil magician known as the Enchanter. Suddenly he spots a windmill. Seeing its sails whirling, he mistakes it for a four-armed giant, attacks it, and receives a beating from the encounter. He thinks he knows why he has been defeated - it is because he has not been properly dubbed a knight. Looking off, he imagines he sees a castle (it is really a rundown roadside inn). He orders Sancho to announce their arrival by blowing his bugle, and the two proceed to the inn.

Cervantes talks some prisoners into assuming the roles of the inn's serving wench and part-time prostitute Aldonza and a group of muleteers, who are propositioning her. Fending them off sarcastically, (It's All The Same) she eventually deigns to accept their leader, Pedro, who pays in advance.

Don Quixote enters with Sancho, upset at not having been "announced" by a "dwarf". The Innkeeper (played by The Governor) treats them sympathetically and humors Don Quixote, but when Quixote catches sight of Aldonza, he believes her to be the lady Dulcinea, to whom he has sworn eternal loyalty. He sings Dulcinea. Aldonza, used to being roughly handled, is flabbergasted, then annoyed, at Quixote's strange and kind treatment of her.

Meanwhile, Antonia (Don Quixote's niece) has gone with Quixote's housekeeper to seek advice from the local priest. But the priest wisely realizes that the two women are more concerned with the embarrassment the knight's madness may bring than with his welfare. The three sing I'm Only Thinking of Him.

One of the prisoners, a cynic called "The Duke", is chosen by Cervantes to play Dr. Sanson Carrasco, Antonia's fiancé, a man just as cynical and self-centered as the prisoner who is playing him. Carrasco is upset at the idea of having a madman in his prospective new family, so he and the priest set out to cure Don Quixote and bring him back home.

Back at the inn, Sancho delivers a missive from Don Quixote to Aldonza courting her favor and asking for a token. Instead, Aldonza tosses an old dishrag at Sancho, but to Don Quixote the dishrag is a silken scarf. When Aldonza asks Sancho why he follows Quixote, he sings I Really Like Him. Alone, later, Aldonza sings What Does He Want of Me? In the courtyard, the muleteers once again taunt her with the suggestive song Little Bird, Little Bird.

The priest and Dr. Carrasco arrive, but cannot reason with Don Quixote, who suddenly spots a barber wearing his shaving basin on his head to ward off the sun's heat. (The Barber's Song) Quixote immediately snatches the basin from the barber at sword's point, believing it to be the miraculous Golden Helmet of Mambrino, which will make him invulnerable. Dr. Carrasco and the priest leave, with the priest impressed by Don Quixote's view of life and wondering if curing him is really worth it. (To Each His Dulcinea)
Meanwhile, Quixote asks the Innkeeper to dub him knight. The innkeeper agrees, but first Quixote must stand vigil all night over his armor. Quixote asks to be guided to the "chapel" for his vigil, and the Inkeeper hastily concocts an excuse: the "chapel" is "being repaired". Quixote decides to keep his vigil in the courtyard. As he does so, Aldonza, on her way to her rendezvous with Pedro, finally confronts him, but Quixote gently explains why he behaves the way he does (The Impossible Dream). Pedro enters, furious at being kept waiting, and slaps Aldonza. Enraged, Don Quixote takes him and all the other muleteers on in a huge fight, as the orchestra plays The Combat. Don Quixote has no martial skill, but by luck and determination - and with the help of Aldonza (who now sympathizes with Quixote) and Sancho - he prevails, and the muleteers are all knocked unconscious. But the noise has awakened the Innkeeper, who enters and kindly tells Quixote that he must leave. Quixote apologizes for the trouble, but reminds the Innkeeper of his promise to dub him knight. The Innkeeper does so (Knight of the Woeful Countenance).

Quixote then announces he must try to help the muleteers. Aldonza, whom Quixote still calls Dulcinea, is shocked, but after the knight explains that the laws of chivalry demand that he succor a fallen enemy, Aldonza agrees to help them. For her efforts, she is beaten, raped, and carried off by the muleteers, who leave the inn. (The Abduction) Quixote, in his small room, is blissfully ruminating over his recent victory and the new title that the innkeeper has given him - and completely unaware of what has just happened to Aldonza. (The Impossible Dream - first reprise)

At this point, the Don Quixote play is brutally interrupted when the Inquisition enters the dungeon and drags off an unwilling prisoner to be tried. The Duke taunts Cervantes for his look of fear, and accuses him of not facing reality. This prompts a passionate defense of idealism by Cervantes.

The Don Quixote play resumes (Man of La Mancha - first reprise). Quixote and Sancho have left the inn and encounter a band of Gypsies ("Moorish Dance") who take advantage of Quixote's naivete and proceed to steal everything they own, including Quixote's horse Rocinante and Sancho's donkey Dapple. The two are forced to return to the inn, where the Innkeeper tries to keep them out, but finally cannot resist letting them back in out of pity.^[5] Aldonza shows up with several bruises. Quixote swears to avenge her, but she angrily tells him off, begging him to leave her alone (Aldonza). Suddenly, another knight enters. He announces himself as Don Quixote's mortal enemy, the Enchanter, this time appearing as the "Knight of the Mirrors". He insults Aldonza, and is promptly challenged to combat by Don Quixote. The Knight of the Mirrors and his attendants bear huge shields with mirrors on them, and as they swing them at Quixote (Knight of the Mirrors) the glare from the sunlight blinds him. The attacking Knight taunts him, forcing him to see himself as the world sees him - a fool and a madman. Don Quixote collapses, weeping. The Knight of the Mirrors removes his own helmet - he is really Dr. Carrasco, returned with his latest plan to cure Quixote.

Cervantes announces that the story is finished at least as far as he has written it, but the prisoners are dissatisfied with the ending. They prepare to burn his manuscript, when he asks for the chance to present one last scene.

The Governor agrees, and we are now in Don Quixote's bedroom, where he has fallen into a coma. Antonia, Sancho, the Housekeeper, the priest, and Carrasco are all there. Sancho tries to cheer up Quixote (A Little Gossip). Don Quixote eventually awakens, and when questioned, reveals that he is now sane, remembering his knightly career as only a vague dream. He realizes that he is now dying, and asks the priest to help him make out his will. As Quixote begins to dictate, Aldonza forces her way in. She has come to visit Quixote because she has found that she can no longer bear to be anyone but Dulcinea. When he does not recognize her, she sings Dulcinea (reprise) to him and tries to help him remember the words of "The Impossible Dream". Suddenly, he remembers everything and rises from his bed, calling for his armor and sword so that he may set out again. (Man of La Mancha -second reprise) But it is too late - in mid-song, he suddenly groans and falls dead. The priest sings The Psalm for the dead. However, Aldonza now believes in him so much that, to her, Don Quixote will always live. When Sancho calls her by name, she asks him to call her Dulcinea.

The Inquisition enters to take Cervantes to his trial, and the prisoners, finding him not guilty, return his manuscript. It is, of course, his (as yet) unfinished novel, Don Quixote de la Mancha. As Cervantes and his servant mount the drawbridge-like staircase to go to their impending trial yet gleaming with courage, the prisoners (except for the Duke) sing The Impossible Dream in chorus.

This information borrowed from wikepedia

What Love Isn't

Time has a way of wearing us down like wind and water erode sharp-edged stone into smooth. Withstanding the test of time, my parents managed to maintain, and soften their relationship by smoothing down the sharp edges.

It took them a lifetime together to accomplish this.  I admire them tremendously.

I didn’t always feel that way. As a child I was disappointed that my parents didn’t fit the romantic models I’d seen in the movies.
They were a good looking couple but they didn’t quite measure up to Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. They were ordinary, hard working folks with four kids to raise. Dad wore work overalls. Mom wore house dresses. They could dress up right nice once in a while. But they weren't they type to adorn themselves in exotic attire, dancing through life like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Mom had lots of nice high heels so even in her house dresses she did have a certain savoir faire about her. Although Dad once said he would like to wear a cravat, he never had reason to wear the ties we kids got him for father’s day. Once we figured it out, we switched over to cookies instead. Dad liked oatmeal.

He didn’t buy her flowers, perfumes, chocolates, or jewels. She didn’t meet him at the door with a martini wearing a flowing lounger or negligee, at least not that we kids were aware. He often quietly dragged himself in after working a double shift. She often set aside the dinner that had grown cold, and went to bed with a book.

Overt signs of affection were not displayed, which led me to become one of those kids who, after learning the facts of life, said, “not my parents”. Not because I didn’t think it was possible, but just because I had never seen any touching. With the extenuating circumstances of a lost birth certificate, I even thought I was adopted for a while. My parents did a lot of things together, but I didn’t believe they did “that”. What fools we little kids be!

They painted the house together; they worked hard trying to run a business together. They drove on trips together. They argued vociferously. Somehow, the made peace when we weren't looking. Romance, in the traditional hearts and flowers sense, was not a part of their lives from what I could see.

Not Anthony and Cleopatra, they were more like Ma and Pa Kettle, herding us kids through life, struggling to make ends meet. They carried on through success and defeat, whichever was the result of the day. And a stoic resolve to get through the next one with more hope for improvement.

I often believed they didn’t know what love was. That was when I was all–fired, absolutely, positively sure, that I really knew what love was.

But, since that time, they married through sixty eight years of richer and poorer, sickness and health, love, hell and high water, deep snow, and earthquakes.

What did they know about love? A lot.

What do I know about love? Zip.

I have been married and divorced five times, six. if you count the one I married twice. I know that I haven’t the foggiest notion of what love is. Though, I think I can say with a fair amount of certainty that I know what love is not. I think my parents know a whole lot more of love than I ever imagined.

Using their lives and marriage as an example, I’ve learned that it is not romance. Anyone can play out that scenario. But, it cannot withstand the test of time. It gets boring after a while… all that worry and tension to create a romantic atmosphere. It’s empty without love to sustain it. Surely romance is part of the beginning of love, like flowers need springtime to grow. But, I’ve learned from my parents that love is related to how you handle the more pragmatic things in life.

Like, getting up in the morning and letting the other one sleep in, and preparing your own breakfast, if necessary, or making sure your mate takes his or her medicine, and reminding whoever is driving the car, there’s a stop sign at the corner hiding under the branches of the big shade tree. Helping each other put things away, whether it’s in the kitchen or the tool shed. Tolerating the mess and just going to sleep when tired, to deal with it the next day. Watching TV, or maybe just snoozing nearby in the easy chair, while the other watches a favorite program. Letting the cat sleep between you, so you both can enjoy its purring, even if it interferes with snuggling. Taking turns talking long-distance to the kids or grand kids on the phone, and not breathing too loud if you’re the one on the extension phone. Praying, and reading scripture together in those golden years. Helping each other remember things:

“Where’d I leave my keys… my socks? …my purse? …the car? What day is it? What time is the doctor’s appointment? What was the name of that family who ran the shoe store in town when we were dating?

There’s also the nagging, the nit-picking, the snoring, the sharp words, misunderstandings, hurt feelings, stubbornness and disagreements, and the the wisdom to agree to disagree. But mostly, I think there’s the hanging-in-there through it all, forgiving and forgetting, and letting go. But, most of all I think my parents knew that love is that which softens the hardness of life and withstands the test of time.

Their favorite love song, which always gave them starry eyes and always gives their kids tears in their eyes.

The Anniversary Song
by Al Jolson

Oh, how we danced
On the night we were wed;
We vowed our true love
Though a word wasn't said.
The world was in bloom,
There were stars in the skies
Except for the few
That were there in your eyes.

Dear, as I held you
So close in my arms,
Angels were singing
A hymn to your charms,
Two hearts gently beating
Were murmuring low,
"My darling, I love you so."

The night seemed to fade
Into blossoming dawn;
The sun shone anew
But the dance lingered on.
Could we but relive that
Sweet moment sublime,
We'd find that our love
Is unaltered by time.

In Memory of My Father, James D Deane May 16, 1915 - November 9, 2005

From my journal of November 8 and 9, 2005


Dad had bad fever this am. Fever broke and he was a awake and alert for a short while. Toughest on my sister who is trying to do round clock nursing care for both Mom and Dad. Sad to see her so desperate.


My brother and I staying at hotel. We're working with mortuary and cremation service to get things arranged.


Mom is getting closer to realization. I laid on her bed with her tonight, wrapped my arms around her, and asked what songs she might want for Dad. She cried a little. But held back a LOT.


This afternoon, it appears, Dad is getting ready to leave his body. He doesn't move very much at all now, breathing is rough, but steady with some stops. His eyes are not much focused. He can be easily roused, but will look toward you when he is. He cannot seem to talk any more. The only thing he said today was "oil" which we took to mean that he wanted a priest to come and anoint him with oil. This is a practice of the my Dad's church. My Dad was raised Episcopal. So this evening a priest came and did the anointing ceremony for them both.


In the meantime, at one point my mom was seated in the lazyboy chair beside his bed and kept talking to him, telling him she loved him, what a good husband he has been and so on. She knows he cannot respond. She is blind and cannot see when he winks his eye to her to let her know he hears her. So we have to tell her when he blinked to some comment she has made. She also has been singing old love songs to him from long ago that we never heard of. He tries to move his mouth to them, but he is too weak. This all still seems hardest on my sister.


When my brother and I are by ourselves we talk. We both seem to be more calm (numb?) about it all. Or maybe not as deeply engaged emotionally? Today we went to a mortuary together and talked "business" and are beginning to put together a memorial plan. It's been exhausting and frustrating, having gone to several to find out they are majorly ready to take a lot of money for very little sentiment.


My Dad did not have a plan in place, nor anything written down suggesting what he might want. Though over the years he has said he wanted cremation, and ashes scattered near his childhood home Kinzua, Pennsylvania.


It is very difficult to concentrate on all this when I am in the midst of it. Even though I feel balanced and oddly calm, I still seem to have a hard time focusing on facts and understanding them clearly. I am probably pissing people off by constantly asking for clarification. They just assume that I am supposed to know what they are meaning, and I want clear hard statements, so I really understand what is being communicated to me. It's kind of like listening through a metal tube with water running nearby. Not only am I not sure I hear things right, but it's very distracting to keep my focus on what is being said.


At one point this evening, my sister was taking care of my mother, who cannot get to the bathroom by herself or take care of personal needs. I sat with my Dad, face to face, and held his hand. I spoke to him and asked if he still had some unfinished business. It seemed he wanted to answer, but of course could not. I know that up until last week he was still worried about bills that he could not pay. So I told him that he really doesn't need to worry about money any more, that he could relax that it doesn't matter now, and he is free from any debts, and that if there is anything outstanding, I know my brother has said he would take care of it.


He blinked in response. I asked him if he remembered that I had a near death experience in the past. He blinked yes. I asked if he wanted me to tell him about this again. He blinked and I reminded him how beautiful it is, and how anything that was ever a worry is so clearly understood in new terms, and how we are finally free, and filled with love, and light, and beauty beyond all understanding.


He got tears in his eyes by that time and was squeezing my hand, I was quiet for a while, and just stroked his forehead. He kept tight of hold of my hand because every time I tried to pull my hand away, he just held it tighter. I was really surprised at the strength. If this was a dying man, he was super strong. He was really holding on and didn't want me to pull my hand away.


When I was telling him about the tunnel and the light and the peace that passes all understanding, he looked away from me across the room. I wondered if someone had come in the room. I turned to see who was there, but no one was there. Dad gave my hand another tight squeeze as he looked at me and back to what he was looking at. I wonder what he saw. We just sat quietly then and watched as my sister helped my mom back to her bed. She stayed with them as the rest of us left to go get some sleep.


Just a few hours later, my sister called to say that Dad died quietly in his sleep. She had fallen asleep in the chair next to him. Mom was in the bed on the other side, asleep.


My sister wanted to know if we wanted to come over to see Dad one last time as the Mortuary would be arriving to take him away. We had so little sleep but I couldn't just lay there. We knew Mom would need us all there, so we got up and went over. We quietly kissed my Dad. Then my sister awoke Mom.


Some would say not to wake her and just sneak the body quietly away, but we just didn't feel that would be right for Mom. Of course, she was inconsolable and very distraught. But, I think her reaction would have been worse if she just awoke to an empty bed beside her. As it was, it was hard to witness. She kept reaching over through the bed rails trying to touch Dad. At one point she even tried to climb over them. So that she wouldn't hurt herself, we took down the bed rails and pulled them closer together so she could touch him and say her last good byes. We all kept attending to Mom, but at one point I had a need to lie down beside my Dad. Mom kept reaching over and wanting his hand to hold but it was finally getting cold, so I just reached across and put my hand in hers to hold.


Some of the nursing staff came in to kiss Dad goodbye and hold and hug Mom. It warmed my heart that people who had taken care of them, and sometimes seemed cold, really did care for the. Finally the hospice nurse came in and hugged us all. She had to make the "assessment" and file the official "paper". Then the mortuary came with one attendant only, which confused me. I don't know why I thought it would be more "official" than that. So, my brother and the Hospice nurse helped to put my father onto the gurney and then his body was taken away. I could not make a move. All I could do was watch. I wondered at my brother's ability to take our father in his arms and pull him across the bed onto the gurney. I looked at his face when he was positioning Dad's legs. There was nothing there except sheer love. A moment after that, his eyes landed on mine and there was a silent acknowledgment of vulnerability. No more Daddy.


My son, was able to come down, and spent that evening sleeping in Dad's bed next to his Grandma, keeping her company, and talking to her. Did he sing to her, too? I think I remember her saying he did.






Goodnight sweetheart, 'til we meet tomorrow
Goodnight sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow
Tears and parting may make us forlorn
But with the dawn a new day is born

So I'll say goodnight sweetheart, though I'm not beside you
Goodnight sweetheart, still my love will guide you
Dreams involve you and in each one I'll hold you
Goodnight sweetheart, goodnight

The day is over and it's cares and woes
In peaceful sweet repose, will fade and die
A dreamy dreamland beckons you and me
How happy life would be if we could dream forever

So I'll say goodnight sweetheart
Even though I'm not, I'm not always right beside you
I'll still say goodnight, goodnight sweetheart
I want you to know that my love, my love will always guide you

And dreams involve you, in each one I'll hold you
Goodnight sweetheart, goodnight...

One more picture of Great Granddaughter

Miss Rylee Lynne

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