I have found that what I know and love about my parents often catches me off guard in unexpected ways, which I kind of like. For me it answers the question of what happens after you die....you stay here on the edges of the memories of those who love you.
What a lovely remembrance! And beautiful admission about the struggle to write about what we should know so well. Who among us hasn’t felt this way. And what a talented family you have! May your days ahead be filled with fond memories and easy writing. 💕 Kathy
This is beautiful Shelley! I love how so many family members were part of the celebration. The painting is amazing! As are you. And yes it all takes time to stew and settle.
I know you know all about this, Dorothy, both the time it takes to process and the involvement of the family, how it makes a difference, as it has done in your own family.
Dear Shelley - Your papa’s gift of sharing a heartfelt story is your gift too. I am sorry for this space left open in your heart. I know that his goodness is with you all your days ahead.
A beautiful tribute to your dad, and the amazing family he created with your mom. Your writing is always inspiring, and thought provoking. The words will come when they are ready. Right now is fallow time. That's important too.
Thank you so much Julie. I love that you mention fallow time. This time of year, after the new year, always seems that way to me, like I'm waiting to see what will germinate. This year seems especially that way.
Thank you for this beautiful tribute, Shelley. It says more about family and love than anything I can imagine. My father died 30 years ago, I was far away, both physically and emotionally. My mother just seven years ago, with me by her side, after living and caring for her for six years. I've spent the past year sorting through 1000s of slides from my childhood (and my mother's flower photos since my childhood, oy vey), and seeing the love. Now I know why so many photos are taken, not so much to convey the events, but to cement the fact that we were family, and for all the inevitable imperfection of the parenting, we loved well. May you find your way through grief. It will take as long as it takes, probably the remainder of a life—because you were well loved.
Thank you so much for these kind words, Gretchen. I love this especially--"so many photos are taken, not so much to convey the events, but to cement the fact that we were family, and for all the inevitable imperfection of the parenting, we loved well." I think this is absolutely true. I think of my dad sorting through all his photos this year, blowing up his favorites, framing them, covering all his walls with them. At his birthday party last January, he told his guests to pick their favorites and they could have them one day. We set up a private family room at the celebration of life with photos that family members could choose and take home. I think he knew all this in advance.
"it’s hard to be fresh and honest and accurate when you’re feeling deeply." Yes indeed... Words feel like trite vessels for expressing the deep compassion that I feel for you in this moment Shelley. I know you'll get it onto the page when its ripe. Meanwhile, I'm so grateful that both your parents saw you put Jane's story into the world. Sending love.
Really lovely, Shelley. What a beautiful goodbye for your dad. Coming back to the page is the way it happens for me, too, time to discover what you are feeling and thinking, an oasis of calm that we need especially today.
"Even my journal entries have veered away from anything true. It’s too easy to be trite. It’s why people say, thoughts and prayers, because it’s hard to be fresh and honest and accurate when you’re feeling deeply. That’s why we have Hallmark cards." Oh, dear professor! How much this rings true!! Your journal entries are real and true for the moment...who can ever capture the true feelings surrounding war and death?
Shelly, sorry to hear about your father passing. However, I loved the decorations on your Christmas tree. Look forward to seeing you at one of the writers' conferences this year.
Thank you Mark. I was so grateful our kids got creative with the shells—especially the lobster topper! It was surprisingly nice and spontaneous, decorating a last minute tree on Christmas Eve, making and decorating cookies after dinner:)
Mmmmm. I'm wishing for a Hallmark card too, unable to find words. To begin with that INCREDIBLE painting of your dad. A portrait to cherish as a portrait. And then it happens to be your dad. Goddesses bless you and your family and their mercies for creating and accompanying him and each other in his dying. The lobster "star" says it all (again, thank you for the image!). The garlands of cotton, potatoes and burlap say it all (one more great image). You've captured and sent back to me in your words the way I experience grief (still). "At a loss" would be the closest I can come to it. A wandering directionless. At my mom's worst moments in her griefs, she'd walk the mountain ridge directly above our house. The ridge runs around a cove. She could give up and just go, and the trail would bring her home, or near enough, within view in the winter, so that she could find her way home. Thank you for putting me up on that ridge. All love to your marvelous extended family too, including dog babies and bad boys and pastors, and even fiddler who know the right tunes. Love you! Grateful for you!
I love the vision of your mom walking those ridges above your house, the trail bringing her home. And yes, the painting by my niece. I am so touched and blown away by it. Love to you, my friend.
The florists were really kind of inspired by the cotton boles and potatoes! And on that day, when Stan Ellis and the Stampede played I’ll Fly Away, I thought, Mary would love this.
I have found that what I know and love about my parents often catches me off guard in unexpected ways, which I kind of like. For me it answers the question of what happens after you die....you stay here on the edges of the memories of those who love you.
On the edges of memory. I love that. I also appreciate knowing in advance the way grief surprises you when you least expect it.
What a lovely remembrance! And beautiful admission about the struggle to write about what we should know so well. Who among us hasn’t felt this way. And what a talented family you have! May your days ahead be filled with fond memories and easy writing. 💕 Kathy
Thank you Kathy. I still remember your beautiful writing about your daughtering role.
This is beautiful Shelley! I love how so many family members were part of the celebration. The painting is amazing! As are you. And yes it all takes time to stew and settle.
I know you know all about this, Dorothy, both the time it takes to process and the involvement of the family, how it makes a difference, as it has done in your own family.
Dear Shelley - Your papa’s gift of sharing a heartfelt story is your gift too. I am sorry for this space left open in your heart. I know that his goodness is with you all your days ahead.
Thank you Sydney.
A beautiful tribute to your dad, and the amazing family he created with your mom. Your writing is always inspiring, and thought provoking. The words will come when they are ready. Right now is fallow time. That's important too.
Thank you so much Julie. I love that you mention fallow time. This time of year, after the new year, always seems that way to me, like I'm waiting to see what will germinate. This year seems especially that way.
Thank you for this beautiful tribute, Shelley. It says more about family and love than anything I can imagine. My father died 30 years ago, I was far away, both physically and emotionally. My mother just seven years ago, with me by her side, after living and caring for her for six years. I've spent the past year sorting through 1000s of slides from my childhood (and my mother's flower photos since my childhood, oy vey), and seeing the love. Now I know why so many photos are taken, not so much to convey the events, but to cement the fact that we were family, and for all the inevitable imperfection of the parenting, we loved well. May you find your way through grief. It will take as long as it takes, probably the remainder of a life—because you were well loved.
Thank you so much for these kind words, Gretchen. I love this especially--"so many photos are taken, not so much to convey the events, but to cement the fact that we were family, and for all the inevitable imperfection of the parenting, we loved well." I think this is absolutely true. I think of my dad sorting through all his photos this year, blowing up his favorites, framing them, covering all his walls with them. At his birthday party last January, he told his guests to pick their favorites and they could have them one day. We set up a private family room at the celebration of life with photos that family members could choose and take home. I think he knew all this in advance.
"it’s hard to be fresh and honest and accurate when you’re feeling deeply." Yes indeed... Words feel like trite vessels for expressing the deep compassion that I feel for you in this moment Shelley. I know you'll get it onto the page when its ripe. Meanwhile, I'm so grateful that both your parents saw you put Jane's story into the world. Sending love.
Thank you April. I am receiving that love:)
Really lovely, Shelley. What a beautiful goodbye for your dad. Coming back to the page is the way it happens for me, too, time to discover what you are feeling and thinking, an oasis of calm that we need especially today.
Thank you Marlena. I love that phrase—oasis of calm. It is a difficult state to secure:)
"Even my journal entries have veered away from anything true. It’s too easy to be trite. It’s why people say, thoughts and prayers, because it’s hard to be fresh and honest and accurate when you’re feeling deeply. That’s why we have Hallmark cards." Oh, dear professor! How much this rings true!! Your journal entries are real and true for the moment...who can ever capture the true feelings surrounding war and death?
I think you are right, Janet. Real and true for the moment may be the best we can do in difficult times.
Shelly, sorry to hear about your father passing. However, I loved the decorations on your Christmas tree. Look forward to seeing you at one of the writers' conferences this year.
Thank you Mark. I was so grateful our kids got creative with the shells—especially the lobster topper! It was surprisingly nice and spontaneous, decorating a last minute tree on Christmas Eve, making and decorating cookies after dinner:)
Mmmmm. I'm wishing for a Hallmark card too, unable to find words. To begin with that INCREDIBLE painting of your dad. A portrait to cherish as a portrait. And then it happens to be your dad. Goddesses bless you and your family and their mercies for creating and accompanying him and each other in his dying. The lobster "star" says it all (again, thank you for the image!). The garlands of cotton, potatoes and burlap say it all (one more great image). You've captured and sent back to me in your words the way I experience grief (still). "At a loss" would be the closest I can come to it. A wandering directionless. At my mom's worst moments in her griefs, she'd walk the mountain ridge directly above our house. The ridge runs around a cove. She could give up and just go, and the trail would bring her home, or near enough, within view in the winter, so that she could find her way home. Thank you for putting me up on that ridge. All love to your marvelous extended family too, including dog babies and bad boys and pastors, and even fiddler who know the right tunes. Love you! Grateful for you!
I love the vision of your mom walking those ridges above your house, the trail bringing her home. And yes, the painting by my niece. I am so touched and blown away by it. Love to you, my friend.
What a wonderful celebration of his life. And how does one order a cotton bolls and potato floral arrangement?
The florists were really kind of inspired by the cotton boles and potatoes! And on that day, when Stan Ellis and the Stampede played I’ll Fly Away, I thought, Mary would love this.
I wish I had been with you. My heart is with you.