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...I wish I could have saved your life as you did mine.
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Roberta, Berta, Z,
I wish I could have saved your life as you did mine. You are my closest friend in the world and as of now the only friend who has died. I wish I could have saved your life as you did mine so many years ago. We met probably in one of our first art classes. As we drew life drawings in class we grew a friendship that would last for years and years. There are so many memories of things we did together. I think of you often when I paint. I remember how frustrated you would get with your paintings and how I would try to calm you down especially in the basement apartment, the first we ever shared. Remember the pill painting I painted that took up all the room in the apt? Remember the time I took pictures at the retirement party? I said it would be easy. All I do is just point and shoot. You and Bob were studying photography and you both told me it wasn’t so easy. Well you were right and I came back with no pictures. I should have gotten more help from you! All the beautiful photos you took of my daughter Julie…no one had ever taken photos of her like you did. I see Bob and Dylan only once or twice a year. I always wish you could see how well they seem to be doing. Of course you can see that because you have never left our hearts and that is what keeps you alive and with us always. I want to tell you about all my new ideas. I went to school for a while to be a baker just like we always talked about. I found that the pots and pans and ovens were too big and hot, so my compromise is painting cupcakes and cake, along with flowers. These paintings would put a smile on your face. You will always be in my thoughts and heart. I love you. Caren
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"Daddy! Daddy!". "Do you hear me Daddy?" "I'm here, can you hear me?" His eyes fluttered. He showed me some acknowledgment. "Daddy!". "If you hear me, open your eyes and squeeze my hand." His eyes again fluttered. With all his being, he opened his eyes and squeezed my hand. Quite firmly he squeezed my hand. His eyes closed. He knew I was there.
I needed to know that he would be OK. I needed to know he would be OK with the Lord. "Daddy!." I wanted to make sure. Again I said his name. "Daddy!." "Open your eyes and squeeze my hand if you believe Jesus died for your sins and that you love him." There was no hesitation. He opened his eyes and squeezed my hand. It was remarkable. More beautiful than I could ask for.
Sometimes communication between two people doesn't even have to be with words. My daddy knew I was there. He was on life support and I knew I was going to have to take him off. I had to go by his wishes. He never wanted to be on life support. I took his hand and asked him, "Daddy, do you want me to take you off this machine?"
I'll never forget how he squeezed my hand. There was more communication in that one squeeze. I can only describe how it was three consecutive squeezes. I felt in my soul that he was telling me yes. I knew his ways, and I knew I was doing what he wanted me to do. He was at peace with the Lord. I knew he would inherit the kingdom of God as is promised. I told him that it was OK to go. I would be alright. I told him to say hello to my mother and everyone.
A few hours had passed after they took him off. He seemed much more comfortable. "Daddy!." He acknowledged me with his eyes. I held his left hand with my right hand. "Daddy!" "I'm going to be right back. "I love you!" I'll never forget how firmly he squeezed my hand. So tight. It was like a long hug.
He passed when I was gone.
I know then his firm hand squeeze was his way of saying good bye for now.
We all have our appointed time. Cherish your loved ones. Hold hands. Give them a distinctive squeeze. They will know by that simple acknowledgment that you love them.
I know Daddy.
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Mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see you at the end when you were so sick. I knew you were dying when someone answered the phone saying, "Merry Christmas." I knew that you would never answer the phone like that, and you had to be really sick and out of it for someone in our house to answer your phone like that.
I'm sorry for everything--for the hard time I gave you as a kid, for not staying at your house as an adult. I had trouble with your depression and anger; it made me depressed and angry. I was upset that you couldn't visit dad in the nursing home. I am sorry I didn't understand.
You grew up so poor and wanting, and it never dawned on me how huge your needs were. I was not woman enough to deal with it. I was not a good enough daughter to the woman who loved me so and whose love I couldn't admit into my heart.
But you were great! I see you in my face and my body. I see you in my interactions with my son--yes, I have a son. He is a teen and can be as difficult as I was, so I really understand a lot more. I interact with him differently than you did with me, but every now and then, I hear your voice come out of my mouth.
Sometimes I felt like you didn't hear me; you didn't listen to what I wanted for myself, but it is my job to achieve those dreams. I was disappointed, and it took me a long time to understand that it didn't matter what your expectations were for me--only what I wanted for me. It didn't occur to me to accept you on your terms, but I've grown up a little. I wish I had been your best advocate instead of the frightened child afraid of your suffering and swayed by a false notion of what was right.
You were a talented, creative woman overwhelmed with the events of her life. I understand that. I think I always did. I never doubted that in other circumstances, you would have put that greatness to incredible work. But your depression got the best of you, and I understand.
You were the one who held me when I was scared. And for all those nights, I wish I had been with you when you must have been feeling scared and lonely. But I think of you a lot. I wish you were alive to see your grandson and your great grand children. I still call your name when I am scared. I think of you at my son's great events--the moments I wish you could be there to see this beautiful boy with our high cheek bones and startling smile--intelligent and creative and struggling through his life, as we all have. Everyone loves him, and he would have shown you great love and respect. I named him for dad. I think you would have liked that. I don't know--maybe you wouldn't have liked the circumstances of his birth. I just believe that finally, you would have loved him and taken joy in him, just as I know you were sometimes able to take joy in me.
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Since you left this earthly plane, I have felt closer to you than ever before. I was so sad when you left, feeling like I had let you down, in that I never reached out to you. I wanted to help you rise above all those people who said you were worth nothing, who treated you like you were stupid. I wanted to help you make something of your life. And I didn't. The last time I saw you, I didn't even get the chance to speak to you. I regretted that very much. Until the night that you came to visit. You have been with me and comforted me so many times over the last three years. And then, last night, I dreamed of you. We were sitting next to each other, and you told me that you knew how I felt about you, and that you felt the same way. We kissed, and it was as real to me as anything else has been in my life.
Though I love to have you near me, I want you to know that when it is time for you to move on, that you should do so, I don't want to hold you back from progressing, and if you need any help with anything, jut let me know.
Thank you for keeping me safe and on the right path, I look forward to your next dream visit.
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It is already long ago that
your brushstrokes and splashes slowly disappeared
from the hot faces of the river stones.
Now your memory is whispered
in the mist of the evening breeze.
April
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