Official video here, with Matthew West's story.
(Written August 23, 2009)
Four years ago I awoke to Dave's last breath.
To questions that had no answers
in my little girl's eyes.
And I knew that my world was broken
beyond repair.
That the rift in my heart
would remain.
Grief is like that.
Sometimes, I can put it away.
In my pocket.
Out of sight.
But like a child,
it will not be ignored for long.
It squirms and pokes
and demands my focus.
And if I persist
in pretending it's gone,
it will rise up,
in a giant wave
and sweep away everything.
Everything but the
tears
sadness
loss
screams
of a wounded soul.
I find that the more it becomes
part of me,
the more I allow
experience
feel,
the more whole I become.
So I make friends with it.
This force that has
shaken me,
and my children.
It becomes part of
the way I think.
The way I talk.
The way I love.
I imagine that I can
run my fingers along the
scar in my heart.
Is it smaller?
Smoother?
Perhaps not.
Is it more solid?
Stronger?
I believe so.
This scar,
this hurt
has become part of what
holds me together.
Is that healing?
I don't know.
It is change.
I know that.
The rhythms of life.
Things come and go.
And come back again.
Four years ago,
Kenny was beginning high school.
Now he's graduated.
School years start.
Homework gets done.
Dinners get fixed.
Dishes get washed.
Football teams play.
Dancers glide.
Candles are blown out.
Leaves bud,
unfurl,
grow,
change their color,
dry and fall.
I watch the moon
steadily change
wax and wane.
I watch my children
steadily change
learning who they are
forging their own ways
becoming who they were meant to be.
And I know that I
change, too.
And so it is.
Each change,
joyful and celebrated,
brings a bit of melancholy, too.
And so we keep moving
changing
growing.
I wonder often
what Dave would think
of the changes we've made.
And how he might be now.
Were he here,
living these
changes with us.
What about him would
be different
from the memories we have,
from the person he was?
Like my dad says,
Go big or go home.
I'll leave you with a new Dave story from a friend (I didn't ask her if I could post it, so I'll leave her out her name.) It's a story I never heard before.
And last night, I found the letter from Clinton Zahl, where he tells the story of the most important thing he learned in high school. He was leaning against the railing, outside the portables, watching people walk by. Dave joined him for a bit. Then said, "Clinton, what do you see?" And Clinton said, "People. Some I know, some I don't know. Some I wish I didn't know." And Dave said, "No Clinton, what you see are all children of God."
Thank you J and Clinton, for giving me those little bits of Dave to hold in my heart.
I think this song is about Dave.
And maybe, someday,
about me, too.
(Written August 23, 2009)
Four years ago I awoke to Dave's last breath.
To questions that had no answers
in my little girl's eyes.
And I knew that my world was broken
beyond repair.
That the rift in my heart
would remain.
We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.
Marcel Proust
Grief is like that.
Sometimes, I can put it away.
In my pocket.
Out of sight.
But like a child,
it will not be ignored for long.
It squirms and pokes
and demands my focus.
And if I persist
in pretending it's gone,
it will rise up,
in a giant wave
and sweep away everything.
Everything but the
tears
sadness
loss
screams
of a wounded soul.
I find that the more it becomes
part of me,
the more I allow
experience
feel,
the more whole I become.
So I make friends with it.
This force that has
shaken me,
and my children.
It becomes part of
the way I think.
The way I talk.
The way I love.
I imagine that I can
run my fingers along the
scar in my heart.
Is it smaller?
Smoother?
Perhaps not.
Is it more solid?
Stronger?
I believe so.
This scar,
this hurt
has become part of what
holds me together.
Is that healing?
I don't know.
It is change.
I know that.
There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature ~ the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.
Rachel Carson
The rhythms of life.
Things come and go.
And come back again.
Four years ago,
Kenny was beginning high school.
Now he's graduated.
School years start.
Homework gets done.
Dinners get fixed.
Dishes get washed.
Football teams play.
Dancers glide.
Candles are blown out.
Leaves bud,
unfurl,
grow,
change their color,
dry and fall.
I watch the moon
steadily change
wax and wane.
I watch my children
steadily change
learning who they are
forging their own ways
becoming who they were meant to be.
And I know that I
change, too.
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter into another!
Anatole France
And so it is.
Each change,
joyful and celebrated,
brings a bit of melancholy, too.
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
C.S. Lewis
And so we keep moving
changing
growing.
I wonder often
what Dave would think
of the changes we've made.
And how he might be now.
Were he here,
living these
changes with us.
What about him would
be different
from the memories we have,
from the person he was?
Each day, life will send you little windows of opportunity. Your destiny will ultimately be defined by how you respond to these windows of opportunity. Shrink from them and your life will be small, feel the fear and run to them anyway, and you life will be big. Life's just too short to play little.
Robin Sharma
Like my dad says,
Go big or go home.
I'll leave you with a new Dave story from a friend (I didn't ask her if I could post it, so I'll leave her out her name.) It's a story I never heard before.
I have been meaning to write you, I had been thinking so strongly of you and of this time of year. I don't know if I ever told you, but I went for a walk one evening when [my baby] was 5 days old (four years ago) on August 23rd. I ended up being harassed by some young guys who thought they were funny, and rang the doorbell of a lady who happened to be a single mom of three teenage boys. They were trying to eat dinner, but they boys were obviously crying. I tried to exit gracefully, and said I was sorry to bother her. She said it was okay, but that the boys lost someone very special that day - that would be Dave.
I never met your husband, and I never got the lady's name, who ended up being an angel and drove me home even though she was crying herself. I just remember thinking so strongly what an amazing soul he must have been to have those three big boys in tears.
And last night, I found the letter from Clinton Zahl, where he tells the story of the most important thing he learned in high school. He was leaning against the railing, outside the portables, watching people walk by. Dave joined him for a bit. Then said, "Clinton, what do you see?" And Clinton said, "People. Some I know, some I don't know. Some I wish I didn't know." And Dave said, "No Clinton, what you see are all children of God."
Thank you J and Clinton, for giving me those little bits of Dave to hold in my heart.
I think this song is about Dave.
And maybe, someday,
about me, too.
Matthew West - The Motions
From the album Something To Say
This might hurt
It's not safe
But I know that I've gotta make a change
I don't care If I break
At least I'll be feeling something
'Cause just ok
Is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of life
Chorus
I don't wanna go through the motions
I don't wanna go one more day
Without Your all consuming passion inside of me
I don't wanna spend my whole life asking
What if I had given everything?
Instead of going through the motions
No regrets
Not this time
I'm gonna let my heart defeat my mind
Let Your love
Make me whole
I think I'm finally feeling something
Take me all the way
Take me all the way
Take me all the way
Thank you for sharing what you were going thru at this time 4 years ago. At this time 4 years ago I was ending my treatments - crazy isn't it? Will be praying for you and your family today :)
ReplyDeleteWas hoping to make another trip to Walla Walla this year, but have decided to stay home. The next time we do go, I would like to meet you!
Hugs to you, mama Meyer.
ReplyDeleteAnd much love. I think Dave would be proud.
Beautiful, perfectly put, as always. I am in awe of how you put words to feelings Shell. Love ya, -Deb
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