Finding The Right Wavelength

daily haiku

light frost does not kill

petunias bravely bloom on

floral veterans

The petunias still color my world outdoors, such a treat, but they are now getting pale and leggy; not as bright as in the middle of the summer months. I still walk each day but I am feeling a bit pale and leggy myself, since using the weedeater this summer triggered arthritis that I knew was there but have not felt until now. Trudging along the gravel surface I am finding that I think of Peter a lot and yearn for the days when we used 2-way radios. A gift from son Sam. He thought it was a good idea to have a way to communicate when I was out walking.

I think it was Sam that gave us our "handles." Peter, at the house on the hill, was TOWER, and I was WANDERER. Peter often washed the dishes while I was walking and inevitably I called just at the time he had his hands in the sink full of water and there was a long pause before he answered sounding a bit testy! But it was fun. I stopped at the Post Office to mail letters first and often picked up the local news and radio'd him a few tidbits. If I received a phone call he would set up a 3-way conversation.

This morning I was thinking that it is unfair that we cannot communicate with our loved-ones after they die. How come God doesn't give us a wavelength on the 2-way radio so we can keep in touch?

"Wanderer to Tower - how is it up there?"

Tower to Wanderer, "Oh, a bit cloudy this morning. The moisture's been affecting my wing feathers."

That sort of thing - very comforting. But until I find that wavelength, I'll have to enjoy talking to all my family and friends, not a bad deal if you ask me!
Cheers mates!

Beauty of color, glory of death

daily haiku

beauty of color
leaves of plum, lime, bronze and gold
the glory in death

It is a whole month since I wrote in this blog. My excuse is busyness, but also I am aware of what I wrote last fall, and I am wary of repetition.

It is now fifteen months since I lost Peter and a year since his lovely memorial service. I feel so much stronger and able to cope, but there is sadness too. In feeling better I leave behind the sharp memories of him that brought so much pain of loss. I find myself wanting the sharp pain back and the sharp memories with it. I am torn between wanting to feel better and wanting go back to capture that wonderful feeling of closeness to him that was enrobed in all the pain. I can’t have it both ways and in the end there certainly is no choice!

Peter left me the gift of his children and their love makes my life brighter. Each of them is a living testament to the good, intelligent and kind man that he was. Just looking at the haiku above , I think the glory in death is in the new lives we create, the fostering of it in loving parenting, and in the strength of the human example we leave behind.