A lady strengthened and renewed in faith
A model of one uplifted by grace
She who reminded us
That “God will hold your hand!!x”
Now rewarded
Summoned by Him to Gloryland
Padre
Our thoughts are with Pastors Vince and Lisa in their time of grief
They say there is an order to things
Seasons pass and chapters end
But when it comes to human life
Our hearts – the change does rend
We are in our spirits sore
A sadness upon us does descend
But God’s love for us still abides
And in time will help us mend
Padre
Written at the passing of my father
I have come to pay a visit
To fill you in on things
I know that you will listen
To the news that I bring
You will not interrupt me
You were always good that way
I will share with you the latest
Then visit again another day
Someday I know you’ll answer
When we meet again face to face
But for now its good to be near you
Even in this place
Padre
Her eyes full of anguish
Down cheeks a steady stream
Not ready for her love’s departure
The end of all her dreams
Eyes filled with sorrow
The tears they continually flow
She was not at all prepared for
Her love to Heaven go
Padre
It has been a year now since you went away
That passing of time, my love does not allay
You have gone to meet our Saviour
Having through Jesus’ blood found His favour
I do with faith daily pray
That I too will join Him on my “getting up” day
Till then I shall your memory hold dear
And on this anniversary shed a tear
Padre
Виктория Бородинова at Pixabay*
When I grow up, I
Will a mariner –
So hearty become.
Like father before
Me – Who left only
His seafaring dreams.
When I have grown up
A mariner too,
A man like Father,
A bold sailor he,
Now lost in briny
Sea. His legacy?
When I have become
A man of the sea,
I will storms defy
And I unlike my
father – will refuse
In the waves to die.
Padre
*While this poem is the construction of my imagination, it was stirred not only by the prompt but by the art and photography of Victoria Borodinova. Her work on Pixabay is well worth looking at for inspiration and illustration. This present photo, which I came across a few days ago, has been weighing in my mind, waiting for this prompt to find its poetic release.
“The Tableau, a poetry form created by Emily Romano in October of 2008, consists of one or more verses, each having six lines. Each line should have five beats. There is no set rhyme scheme, although rhyme may be present. The title should contain the word tableau.”
The year after a bereavement is “a year of firsts.” The first “first” for me came only three days after my wife’s passing as she went to be with her Lord just before our wedding anniversary. Yesterday was another of those “firsts,” the anniversary of our “meeting.”
My wife and I “met” in a chatroom for single parents. This was no “online dating site.” It was a Christian site with the purpose of discussing being single parents and coming up with advice and strategies for dealing with the responsibility of that role. We seemed to have much in common as far as approach, and that in turn showed other things we shared. Our online contact moved on from that and about 3 months later we met for the first time face to face. God works in wonderful ways, and through such an unexpected medium, I found the perfect partner and wife.
A chance meeting while seeking help
No thought of what it might become
Discussing with strangers the issues of life
And then we became as one
How odd, our meeting was while far away
In a help room for sharing advice
And then we would click, bond, and grow
And you agreed to become my wife
So simple a meeting, no thought of a link
Lone parenting our only aim
But it all came together faster than you’d think
Our destinies proved the same
Padre
Dianne you are loved and missed.
I am in grief. There is no denying that. But even in the sense of personal loss which wells over me at this time, it does not overcome me. I have hope. It is a hope founded in faith, and in which my wife’s passing was not “game over,” but merely a time of separation. A time in the scheme of eternity that will be but a blink.
Yes, it might seem long (depending on how long I have still to continue my pilgrimage) while here on earth, but it is not enough to cause me despair.
A Christian lady I once saw on a video made a powerful statement about facing her own demise. She said, “Death is a comma, not a full stop.” How wonderful a way to express the hope in our resurrection to join Jesus. One part of our existence will come to an end, only to continue with the rest of the story.
Paul wrote, “We do not grieve as others who have no hope (1 Thess. 4: 13).” Yes, we still grieve, but not as those that think that this earthly life is all there is. My wife as she faced death, always held that God could heal her at any time. Such power was His to deal as was best. But she also held that accepting her mortality was a blessing. We are only passing through, here below. If we cling to this life, with the conviction that death is definitive, then of course it brings fear and pain. But she in her hope of a life everlasting, easily was able to say to God: “In my life – your glory. If I am healed – it will cause people to marvel and praise. And if I don’t get physically healed, I will live my faith to its full, and show those around me, that death is not to be feared because Jesus has gone to prepare me a place.” She lived that to the end. We should too.
Padre
image by Dianne
My wife prepared me for her passing in every way she could. She told me to keep on writing, and not to wallow in grief. Her advice was wise and strengthens me. In taking a moment to collect and recollect these words flow.
Wait, Pause, Take Breath, Breathe
A moment to stop, Collect
Letting Anguish ebb
Padre – in the second of my Dianne postmortem poems
My thanks to Chèvrefeuille for also for us to pause, it was a perfect word for my day.
A Smile Even in Illness
What Smiles Hide
“The cancer has grown,” the oncologist said,
“In eight months, or so, you may be dead,”
“You’ll be good till you’re not, this you should know,”
“Then you’ll swiftly decline, before you go.”
It’s a terminal sentence, but not plain to see,
As the tumor inside you expands by degree,
Tired but still active, trying to “live” while you can,
But the fatigue that is felt, eludes casual scans.
“But you look so well,” I heard him say,
The funeral director who came to visit today,
Yet we need – here and now, this funeral plan,
To speedily arrange it while we can.
Our smiles hide illness, our smiles hide fear,
We quickly don them, when others are near,
They are oft perceived to mean that we have no pain,
But the meanings behind them, are seldom that plain.
The poem was written a few months ago in response to an oncology consultation late last year, and a meeting with the funeral director for advance planning at the beginning of this summer. My wife throughout all of this kept positive, and tried to be a role model for others. Many remarked on her positive outlook. But even when positive, it did not diminish the physical pain and the symptoms of a organ deterioration. Let’s all try to remember that not every disease is visible, and that some who suffer silently do so with smiles.
The quotes in the poem are paraphrases or actual comments given by the oncologist and the funeral director.
Padre
Dedicated to my wife Dianne 1965-2019
Padre's Ramblings 