Today marks five years since Mom died, and this coming December is when Grandpa died 19 years ago. This week, I went out with my cameras for a walk in memory of the first time I ever shot Mom’s heart-shaped glasses in the wild.
Things change
Almost the Same
The cloudy, drizzly November day I shot these photos feels almost the same as the one five years ago when I was living without my mom for the first time. I went to the same park as that day five years ago. I went at about the same time as five years ago. I put Mom’s glasses in the same tree as five years ago. Things change though.
Mom’s glasses broke sometime during the past five years. I have now taken photos of other people’s keepsakes in memory of their loved ones. So, the shots I share with you today also include my grandfather’s watch because things do change.
I remember Grandpa as a friendly, no-one-was-a-stranger man who fought in World War II. Despite what he experienced then, he managed to be a good and fun grandpa for us. I remember Grandpa’s family reunions where he played softball along with his brothers and cousins. I remember his hair being permed and wild. I remember his spending time in his and Grandma’s detached garage watching the St. Louis Cardinals on a small TV. Grandma would press the garage door opener to signal Grandpa to come into the house whenever she needed him for something. I remember going with Grandpa to Busch Stadium to see the Cardinals play in person.
Death anniversary
Questions Arise
I remember his mischievous grin and wink when he was about to do something he knew Grandma would not approve of. I remember his excitement at seeing Mom whenever she visited him. He didn’t have to treat her like his own daughter; he chose to do so. After having been their father since they were toddlers, he chose to legally adopt my mom and her sister when they were in their 50s. He loved my mom and he loved us.
With Mom’s death anniversary arriving, I have been pondering some questions about how people and the world change. My reflections came out in poem form, a little bit of a change from my typical blog.
Leaving my life
Phantom Trees
Why do we expect to be the same
When every experience has forever changed us?
When we grieve,
Shouldn’t we expect to never be the same again?
I ask myself as I take a walk through
This neighborhood I’ve walked for decades.
The neighborhood that is missing old trees.
They fell in storms.
They were cut down for disrupting human lives.
If not for Papa Earth Sky and us, they might still be here.
But, it is in Mama Sky Earth’s nature and ours,
For all things to seemingly end.
We should not expect otherwise.
Even so, I miss those trees.
The shade they offered.
The autumn colors they shed.
Leaving my life? I do not dread.
But those phantom trees?
I am sorry they left,
By choice or by nature.
I still miss them as I walk along the streets of my neighborhood.
I say “hello” to the trees still here
And whisper to the ones who aren’t.
I miss you.
I see where you stood tall and strong.
I hear how your leaves rustled in the wind.
I smell your spring green growth.
Still, I miss you, your presence.
I come to this moment by taking photos,
and in the rain-soaked leaves,
I see my tears that have not yet fallen,
Just like some of the still-here trees
Have not released their leaves.
You are remembered in winter, spring, summer, and fall.
I am forever grateful for having known you and
I am living in full gratitude now for knowing you still
The phantom trees.
Why is it so difficult to accept
That we won’t be the same when we never have been?
Why is it so difficult to allow
That we have such strong feelings about that change?
Especially, when we have had so many opportunities
To learn from our moving experiences?
Why can’t we let go of the thoughts
That we should be the same when it’s clear,
Life is never, and has never been, the same
From the moment we are born until here?
Why don’t we recognize that letting go
Of those expectations creates space
To let in the new person we’ve become?
While new is not always improved, in this case,
It certainly can be. If we only let it ...
In letting go and creating space for us to grow,
We can discover where our loved ones’ love goes.
It doesn’t disappear or dissipate.
It doesn’t end like we expect all things do.
We don’t have to get through this,
Whatever this is.
We don’t have to stop loving when our hearts break
Although that feels like it is true.
What, though, can we do?
Until we can’t anymore,
We can see their love rooted in me and let it fly free.
We can notice each other and
Allow ourselves to be present
And to be seen
Because living beyond just surviving requires community.
A community consists of those here on earth and
Of those who hug us and love us from afar.
They are not phantoms any more than those missing trees
Because they still here are
In this moment,
In this heart,
In this very breath I breathe.