I heard a child
This morning
Ask her mother,
“Why do leaves
Have to die?” as she
Crunched through a pile of brown crumbles On the sidewalk.
“The colors were
So pretty!” she said.
“Where
Did they go?”
I didn’t hear
The mother’s
Response. Maybe I would have said,
“We all fade,
Lose our color,
Why, just look
All around,
Everything
Will die.
But when a grain of wheat dies,
It bears much Fruit.” She might have looked at me quizzically.
Without that metaphor though,
I wouldn’t have been able to bear losing my Brother.
He was too young. It was so unexpected.
As I helped
Carry his
Body,
Someone said
To me, “This
Isn’t so
Hard for
You as for
The others, is it? You were only
His sister.”
I was controlling
My emotions
That day.
There was no room
For my emotions.
There was
My mother,
His wife,
His sons.
Theirs needed big space.
But my brother had been there
My entire life.
I was letting go
of someone
who had always
been a part of us.
To say his life
Had touched mine and many
While he lived,
Would be an
Understatement. It had.
But I wonder
If, even more,
His death?
There is no way
Of understanding
How in dying
We gain,
Unless I take hold of that grain of wheat analogy.
The earth and the heavens
Are the work of
God’s hands.
They will wear out
like the leaves, and
Be discarded.
But God is more
Enduring than
What He
Has made.
The first creation
Will give way
To a new
Creation.
If I didn’t believe this,
I couldn’t bear
To lose those
I love.
The moonrise tonight
Both amazed and
Comforted me.
It had been
One year
after
He died,
when the bountiful globe
Of the night poked
Its head up out of
The horizon,
The color red.
It had been my first
Moonrise. A glow of
Majestic,
Magenta light,
Turning orange
Before golden,
Began to rise.
I stared
Intently,
Until its big white face
Looked back
At me.
Settling onto its throne
In the sky, it shown
A light right to me,
A pathway
Of white.
As if
It were
A message sent
Directly to my heart from his—
“I’m here, sis!”
Moon over Lake Michigan 11.8.22
Ed Wenzler
Feb 17, 1954-
Nov 8, 2008
(This was inspired by Psalm 102:25-27, John 12:24 and is actually a Haiku, although you’d never know it by the default formatting here on WordPress. I tried converting to HTML mode without success. Sorry for the choppy read.)
Thank you for giving words to grief and imagery to God’s consolation.
What an honoring tribute to a life loved and missed.
Beautiful and deeply moving. So many unspoken words from the heart were said. Thank you, Deb, for sharing.
Bruce, there’s something about being told you’ve captured unspoken words that thrills my heart. Thank you, my friend.
Thank you, Tim. What a beautiful comment.
Deb
What a beautiful way to feel your brother’s presenc. 💕 Oh, a sister can feel every bit as much grief as another. I have had just one sibling, and she’s the only one living now who has known me all my life. She’s having surgery soon, and I’ll be flying out to Arizona to help her. She said I could wait until later, if I wanted, wait til she was better and we could do more fun things. But then I dreamt of walking on the beach, alone and sad, thinking how much I missed her and our long conversations. It’s not a “serious” surgery, but none of us is promised tomorrow. I’m not waiting.
Aww, Annie, a couple years ago I went to Arizona to be with my sister for her surgery. She had almost two weeks in the hospital. I can’t imagine not being able to have been there and gone through that together. So…we’re soul sisters who have souls sisters for sisters. I wonder if that makes us double soul sisters now? That sounds like some kind of mighty soul Force, I’d say! Sending prayers for the surgery, a speedy recovery and some incredible time together!
❤️❤️❤️❤️
That means so much, Stephanie. Thank you. It was written to honor my brother and to share God’s amazing love and faithfulness. How He knows our hearts. ❤️❤️
I too think often of the grain of wheat deb. To know that our joy of the fruit of death someday will be much larger than death itself is quite a hope. I am reminded of that every spring. The symbolism in nature is not just a happy accident. It’s further reaching than our imagination can travel.
I agree, Gary. And it’s a wonderful route to travel on!
Thank you, Debi, that is so touching about Ed. And about siblings and connection and loss. And God. I thank you for your warm sweetness on our visit. I am back in France but am returning in December or January. I would love to see you.
Thank you, Gillian. Till next time. ♥️♥️