FINDING THE THREAD
a thread begins to reveal itself.
Ahead are endless, unplanned days.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“You have to have a plan”, I told everyone.
But where was my plan?
If I could see ahead just a little,
maybe I could unravel the thread.
Walking into our spare bedroom this morning,
the view turned from dark
A scene exploded in my memory.
I could see my father lying on the bed we borrowed
We wanted his last days
to be spent with a view of our peaceful world;
our flock of sheep,
the horses in the pasture.
I hope he loved the quiet scenes before him.
“The Lord is my Shepherd…
He makes me to lay down in green pastures.
He restores my soul”.
I hope my Dad’s soul was restored.
He knew what he was facing.
He wouldn’t talk to us about it.
That was his way of dealing
with the impending transition.
(A visiting minister later revealed that Dad had asked him what heaven was like.)
I think we all may have that question in our hearts.
We visited with Dad as often as we could,
as did many friends
in those last few days.
We could only face the situation
by continuing our daily routines.
He did his best
to honor our game.
Dad didn’t retire
until the age of sixty-nine.
It seemed like a grand old age in those years,
but now it seems rather young to me.
He always had a plan,
an interest, and a goal.
He was disciplined,
loving and reliable,
committed to his family.
What about me?
There are many questions;
not many answers.
I want my life to count for something.
Have I stopped counting?