I have an affectionate but long-distance perspective to offer on our departed loved one, Luke. He would call or text occasionally, to offer a cheerful greeting or update, or sometimes to ask very simply and directly for help. I was never present for the crisis times and can only imagine how devastating they were. The picture his life presented to me was of a young man whose life was upended by illness, and who tried diligently for 20 years to build a nest in a hurricane. He never gave up his search for a loving home and meaningful work, and what more does any of us ever want? God rest you, my young nephew: your illness and trouble are over now.
A young death
My young nephew, not quite 40, died suddenly this week. It was a shock and yet not completely unexpected, given the complicated state of his mental and physical health. He was struck down savagely by bipolar disease at the age of 18, a blow that was followed by some of the predictable physical catastrophes that strike people given to passing out in snowdrifts, as well as bolts from the blue like cancer.
At his memorial service this Saturday in Philadelphia, I will read (or have someone read for me) this elegy:
I’m sorry for your loss. My condolences.
ReplyDeleteMay the Lord receive him.
ReplyDeleteLoving home, meaningful work. We would give all our fortunes if we were ever without them.
ReplyDeleteGod has given me another chance to a save a dog, if only briefly, a small elderly creature with untreatable heartworms. It's just the thing for a week's work right now in Luke's honor. Little Lucy has a hospice-home waiting for her with a committed rescuer in Missouri. I'm going to pick her up out of the Corpus Christi shelter, where they'd otherwise have killed her tomorrow, and hold her until she can be transported on Feb. 7. I like to think that she'll join Luke soon, both in restored health. He'd always have liked to have a dog if he'd been able to create a safe home. He had one once when he briefly lived with a woman and her son.
ReplyDeleteThe lame will walk in Gloryland
ReplyDeleteThe blind up there will see
The deaf in Gloryland will hear
The dumb will talk to me
*Long distance hugs* A wonderful tribute and kindness, Texan.
ReplyDeleteLittleRed1
My condolences, Tex. That's a good elegy.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry, Tex.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry, T99. He is, though, in a better place now, as you and so many have noted.
ReplyDeleteEric Hines
I kept looking at that word "elegy" knowing something was wrong. The word I was looking for was "eulogy," of course.
ReplyDeleteElegy is also correct as long as it was a poem. Given the care you put into each word, and in this era of blank and free verse, no one could still deny you the term.
DeleteBut thanks, everyone. Your kind expressions mean a great deal to me.
ReplyDeleteAnd the sweet little rescue dog is with me, too, a 24-lb. gray miniature pit bull called a "Pocket Bully." I guess the style was to crop the ears very close to the head; she looks like a tiny hippo! She'll leave for her hospice home in Missouri on Feb. 7. I made a little soft nest for her in a travel crate, where's she''s still in profound sleep this morning, snoring faintly.
ReplyDelete