I’ve written poetry, and descriptions, and cards over the many years we’ve been blessed to share, and none, in all their collective, flowery, poetic and, oft-ironic way, ever said more about who we were...because I never realized until I would have them no longer, the real things about him I will miss forever...the things that really impressed themselves on my very soul about this man I love so much!

          I wrote about who he was, why I admired him...was proud of him...respected and emulated him...prayed folks would say I was even just a little like him. But now I KNOW how much I miss his whiskery-rough cheek next to mine...his touch...the twinkle in his eye when he talked to me...and the confidence with and in which he spoke...the love he WAS and will always be for and to and in me, personally! It was in these that I felt his pride and admiration for me. It was in these that HE told me I WAS maybe just a little bit like him...or at least that’s what I’d like to think!

          Lord help me...how will I ever be able to write enough to describe a lifetime of what and why and how I loved him...when I must stop every third sentence to keep from shorting out my keyboard! I have never in my entire life...and I adored my mother as well...make no mistake...NEVER in my ENTIRE LIFE cried like this...felt this kind of longing, yearning, missing something. Like a phantom limb, ripped from my soul, he will itch and throb in the background of my every day ‘til we’re rejoined on that next pain-free day of my existence...having finally gained eternity!

          And, yet, “It hurts so good!” because even this intense a pain can be a valuable yardstick of how much value one had in, and added to, your life. Enter “Happy Tears” (A poem/exploration in process!). When my mom died, I wrote “Selfish Tears”. I have since endeavored to explain the various stages of grief and other times when tears enter into our lives...by clarifying their function, and its value! I’ve always been told that you should write about something you know about...tears work there. I’ve been blessed with emotion...and the ability to shoulder its burden without “compromising my manhood”! I got that from him too!!! That was his legacy to me...love...real love...a full and healthy and all-encompassing love...of all things. Tolerance and open-mindedness...and most...the fine art of the “KNOW-I-LOVE-YOU-BEAR-HUG”, which, by the way, can be as tender, too, as any!

          When I first joined my present church, James, my now “one-another” brother, introduced me to another fella from EB, where we work, and this guy proceeds to immediately “warn” me that, If I’m gonna get involved in this church, I’d better learn to not have a problem huggin’ men! “HAH!”, I replies. “You never met my dad!!!” to which James chimes in, “Oh yeah...when you go to Ray’s house, you’d better be prepared for hugs there...on the way in...all ‘round...bear hugs!!!” My reputation now precedes me...THAT is my legacy from my dad...from POPPA!!! And now my grandchildren call me POPPA...oh baby...BIG shoes!!!

          And I really must hold up MY GOD...and my church, through whom I have come to know...and LOVE...Him so well. By definition, faith is a belief in something than cannot be proved.

          So, too, in order to qualify as faith, it must be challenged and it must accomplish. Otherwise, it’s little more than hope and good intentions! But, oh, my faith has been challenged.

          In 1983, my sainted mother suffered a heart attack that should have felled a circus elephant...and survived it...but severely debilitated with a substantial portion of her heart muscle left flaccid. So much so...that when she contracted throat and lung cancer a year and a half later, she was inoperable. The only treatment regimen available to her was just enough spot radiation for her throat that she lost her ability to distinguish even sweet from salt! All that was left after that was chemotherapy...in-patient chemo...the first week of every month for the next...and last...4-1/2 poor miserable years of her life. I so wish I had known then what I’m absolutely certain of now...the promise of eternity...AND...the “secret” of its achievement. Had she been a little more faithful...had I/we been a little more convicting...perhaps she wouldn’t have hung onto so little so tenaciously!

          But, you see, though I was a minister and, I thought, a “fully-practicing” Irish-Roman-Catholic, I was also a drunk addict with a strong side-order of arrogant denial...could not even see the dichotomy between serving God only when I wasn’t distracted with servin’ me.

          And like any addict, I lied...even to myself. Self-centered isn’t something I’d have admitted to, if questioned, but how else could I have been so much the victim that I complained about “every vacation I’ve taken for 6 years is to go home and watch my mother dying!” WAANNNNHHHHHHHH

          My dad was there...day in and day out...dawn to dusk...and beyond...either almost completely replacing mom’s nurses for the most routine functions when she was in...or bein’ her nurse when she was home in between...not just witnessing the pain and anger and awful physical...and emotional...reactions...but cleanin’ up after ‘em...tending...attending...while continuing to keep house and see to the everyday life functions...none of which was put on hold...even as he did his utmost to comfort...placate a soul that would not...could not...find peace!

          Even as my weak faith was bein’ challenged, and probably because I was so unaware it was happening, my dad was still growing ever greater in my estimation and admiration...becoming more my hero than I had ever imagined possible...showing me a road to aspirations as yet unrealized in my own selfishly-limited sphere. But even that challenge was addressed, soon. Before I’d even really formulated the question completely...had any kind of time to truly consider why God would let my mom survive so severe a heart attack, just to incur...endure...4-1/2 years of chemo...on a chronically in-patient basis, we had the answer.

          My mom went home to God on March 19, 1989. After 6 years of in-process mourning...hoping...praying for healing...giving up hope...praying for relief...agonizing loss. Gone...your one and only love...partner for just over 37 years...whatever dreams you had dreamt for the future...all gone...lost to a single phone call from the hospital...one eternal call from God...“Come home, Mary...I’ll take care of you now!” And beyond my dad’s loss, I felt inconsolable. I was their first born; my mom worked with me until I could read most newspaper headlines before I ever stepped foot in a school. Here was a woman with whom I could converse in a fashion like I’ve never found before or since...based on “connection” alone! How could God do this TO US?!? ARRRGGGGHHHHHHHH...I WAS SO ANGRY!!! SO SAD!!! SO HURT and EMPTY and at a loss for what to say or to whom I should even say it anymore?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Oh, my faith was tested!!!

          BUT...by some time in July or August, my dad was callin’ to ask if I wanted to be a “best man”, and all I could say was “For whom?” “Why for me!!!” was his near-giggly reply. I still remember the lilting sound of his voice even over the phone, even back then...over 18 years ago...when my memory was better and telephone technology... not so much!

          Imagine, if you will, your favorite memory of the favorite twinkle you ever saw in anyone’s eye...some special moment that made the time and that look forever etched, indelibly, on the most happy side of your memory. Now, for those of you not “envision-challenged”, associate the tone of voice...its sound...that you would ascribe to someone with that look...times ten!!! This ol’ fella was E X C I T E D ! ! ! He had a new girlfriend!!! He was drivin’ my brother crazy “stayin’ out too dang late!” and replyin’ with that almost too-predictable “Paybacks’ a...” line! LMBOROF

          And that twinkling giggle was all the endorsement our new “Mom” would ever need for me. And that was unnecessarily, but fully affirmed nonetheless, when we first met, many months later, when they came to be married in my yard in Connecticut, with my ex-wife and me standin’ up for them, and my brother there, and my TWO OF MY FOUR NEW SISTERS! It was then that I saw for m’self the actual twinkle in ‘is eye that rightly accompanied that lilting giggle still hangin’ sweet in the back of my memory...still comin’ from his mouth, too, as it turns out. AND...her fully matchin’ twinkle that returned his in kind. Once the stories passed ‘round about Aggie’s Stan, and we all realized how parallel it was with my mom’s own 6-year-long epitaph, the “test” was over...I had my answer...and my faith back...at least as much as I was capable of back then.

          Over the ensuing years, which have passed altogether too rapidly (My momma wasn’t kiddin’ when she’d say to the child-me, “It doesn’t get any slower wit’ age, love!”), their love, our family, my faith, have all grown and matured…and flourished! There were some pretty big bumps, but my dad’s always succinct advice and ever-present support were a huge part of how I survived me and then!

          Much more comin'...work in progress...but need to break for a wee bit now 'n' again to let the keyboard dry out!

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