So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish. Errr... Memories
This entry will be just a tad different. Well, ok, all entries herewithin this archive of my ramblings are "different". Smartarse. Let me rephrase then. Actually, I don't need to. As stated, this entry IS different, and therefore IS therefore different from the other different entries. Thereby, this entry shall maybe hopefully possibly then therefore potentially could be considered, ummmm,,, normal??? Ick. Well... whatever. Just play along here, and see where this takes us. Ok? Ok.
Driving to the big city of Chickennoodle, we heard that the Pope had passed away. Altho' we are not Catholics [or attend any church on a normal basis, for that matter], was still saddened to hear he had died, but honestly somewhat relieved that his suffering upon the Earth had passed.
As the day around these parts was very windy, somewhat overcast at times, and kinda chilly, the mood of the day was kindof fitting in a macabre manner to contemplate life and death, and the passing of loved ones, as was evident by what was to follow about a quarter hour later after the announcement was made concerning the Pope's passing.
We arrived at the restaurant of choice for the day, Red Lobster. This selection was made by the woman, and with confirmation by the critters in the back of the van. As we were pulling into the parking lot, we [we being the woman and I] noticed that the littlest one was quiet, and in the midst of crying. After some time, was able to ask him to come to the front of the van, whereupon we learned that he was very sad, and had cried cause he was missing his great-grandma; his mom's grandmother, on her mom's side. I asked him what made him think out of her, in what was to us the clear blue. He said cause the sky was the way it was, and the Pope had died, he was just thinking thoughts... All I could do was to hug him and let him know that instead of thinking about her being gone, to instead be very thankful that he remembered her and had the opportunities to have played with her and to have known her. As the wife and I comforted him, could tell the huge impact that this wonderful lady had left upon a child that was not much older than four years old when she passed away. I do know that his older brother had many many more memories of her, as these two had had many hours that they had played together. Yet, he was able to, at least on the outer surface, to be more unemotional, whereas the younger son is definately more sharing of his thoughts and feelings.
It is sad to lose someone. At times I wonder if its harder upon a youngster or an adult. Each has different levels of understanding and comprehension of what has and is happening, amount of memories, and degrees of knowing where their spirit has traveled to. Nevertheless, the passing of a life is sad and mysterious, along with being frustrating. The latter to me anyhow, as I hate that dual edge of the sword of feeling both thankful for knowing the person, having the times that were shared; but yet the sadness surrounding the acknowledgement that that individual is gone from this world as we know it, that part stinks... Which of course reminds me of that old saying that goes something like "'tis better to have loved and lost, to have never have known". True. But, the pain is still real.
With that, I leave you with the following...
Native American (Hopi) Prayer
I am with you still -- I do not sleep.
Do not think of me as gone --
I am with you still -- in each new dawn...
Driving to the big city of Chickennoodle, we heard that the Pope had passed away. Altho' we are not Catholics [or attend any church on a normal basis, for that matter], was still saddened to hear he had died, but honestly somewhat relieved that his suffering upon the Earth had passed.
As the day around these parts was very windy, somewhat overcast at times, and kinda chilly, the mood of the day was kindof fitting in a macabre manner to contemplate life and death, and the passing of loved ones, as was evident by what was to follow about a quarter hour later after the announcement was made concerning the Pope's passing.
We arrived at the restaurant of choice for the day, Red Lobster. This selection was made by the woman, and with confirmation by the critters in the back of the van. As we were pulling into the parking lot, we [we being the woman and I] noticed that the littlest one was quiet, and in the midst of crying. After some time, was able to ask him to come to the front of the van, whereupon we learned that he was very sad, and had cried cause he was missing his great-grandma; his mom's grandmother, on her mom's side. I asked him what made him think out of her, in what was to us the clear blue. He said cause the sky was the way it was, and the Pope had died, he was just thinking thoughts... All I could do was to hug him and let him know that instead of thinking about her being gone, to instead be very thankful that he remembered her and had the opportunities to have played with her and to have known her. As the wife and I comforted him, could tell the huge impact that this wonderful lady had left upon a child that was not much older than four years old when she passed away. I do know that his older brother had many many more memories of her, as these two had had many hours that they had played together. Yet, he was able to, at least on the outer surface, to be more unemotional, whereas the younger son is definately more sharing of his thoughts and feelings.
It is sad to lose someone. At times I wonder if its harder upon a youngster or an adult. Each has different levels of understanding and comprehension of what has and is happening, amount of memories, and degrees of knowing where their spirit has traveled to. Nevertheless, the passing of a life is sad and mysterious, along with being frustrating. The latter to me anyhow, as I hate that dual edge of the sword of feeling both thankful for knowing the person, having the times that were shared; but yet the sadness surrounding the acknowledgement that that individual is gone from this world as we know it, that part stinks... Which of course reminds me of that old saying that goes something like "'tis better to have loved and lost, to have never have known". True. But, the pain is still real.
With that, I leave you with the following...
Native American (Hopi) Prayer
I give you this one thought to keep
I am with you still -- I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
Do not think of me as gone --
I am with you still -- in each new dawn...
posted by Hobbes at
12:33 AM
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