For You, I Wish the Intangible




I see the lights outside eager homes. I hear the music play throughout department store walls and there is an excitement on the children’s faces that remind us another year has passed. It is holiday season once more. A time to celebrate, to express love and kindness… Our country is at war, politicians launch battles against one another, and parents can’t leave children outside to play. These tragedies I speak of do not remove my holiday spirit, they guide it. They give me vision of what I should celebrate, how I should love and what to share. As I inscribe this Wish, I know I could address it to most, for life’s walk challenges us all. It is the holidays. I have been programmed to give you something I can wrap, something with a bow but my heart searches elsewhere. I want to give you love but I do not know how to wrap it. I want to give you respect but could not find a box big enough. I want to give you my trust but I do not think the mail carrier could carry it all… I wish for you those things you can not touch. I wish you freedom from anxieties, loneliness, and pains of the heart. I wish you the miracles gone unseen as roses blossom in backyards, winter becomes spring again and again and the sun rises to warm you each and every morning... If this holiday season I could give you anything I would wrap your fears, your tears and hold them far from your reach. I would give you enough loyalty to erase your betrayals and any sadness… This holiday season I will wrap you a gift, but “I love you” is what I mean to give.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Words by Barbara: A Tribute to Another Mother Gone Too Soon, Joyce Winters

Yesterday I watched solemnly as they came to carry away my friend Joyce. Did they know how much we will all miss her? Did they know how her young son Logan, still part boy at 15, certainly not yet a man, would still need her, and she would not be there to answer his questions, cook his dinner, laugh with him, hug him, kiss him goodbye when she dropped him off at school, or welcome him home? Did they know how quiet he can be at times, how although he is a big guy for his age, he is still so vulnerable, sweet, unsure at times, and often cannot express his deeper feelings?
Did they know how Joyce would not be there to cheer him on when playing baseball, help him with his homework, or congratulate him on a job well done at school, or just marvel at his smile, and his adorably ackward ways? Where would his mom be when he found first love, went off to college, got his first "perfect" job, married, had children of his own, Joyce's grandchildren?
They did not know; but they were careful, respectful, as they lifted her now wasted body from the bed to the gurney, they had done this procedure far too many times before, it was routine, but they were careful to not make the moment appear too commonplace.
Did they know that she was once a genuine beauty, a woman so stunning men and women alike would turn as she entered a room? Her mother, 88 years of age, told me that as they left, and I concurred. I had often seen the reaction as Joyce entered a room, I had witnessed the heads turning. What is the sense of this, when a mother has to watch her lovely daughter diminish and die. None.

Someone said, "We are born between the loins of a woman, and we die in the arms of a woman." So true.

We know we will remember you Joyce: your beauty, your grace, your laughter, your love, your devotion to your husband John, and especially your deep love and concern for Logan. As mothers we have promised you that we will watch him as he grows, mother him, protect him, guide him, love him, and we will. It is our promise to you Joyce, we honor you. Always.
With love and respect for a battle fought with valor and optimism, your friend Barbara
Posted by at 9:37 PM
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