I watched you struggle against a breathing tube,
a thin blanket covering your trembling legs,
hands seeking escape or comfort,
face pale, eyes closed, unaware
and despite the heart wrenching sight
of you—
my father—so vulnerable, so exposed,
I knew in a few hours you would be awake,
in a few days you’d walk out of the hospital,
and in a few weeks you’d once again walk the paths of your
mountain home.
Now, I stare at a screen adorned with pictures and words
praising the life of another man, taken from us unexpectedly;
A man—my uncle, your brother— with a gentle, loving soul,
just like yours.
I stare, uncomprehending, and struggle to believe the truth.
One man’s remodeled heart beats a steady new rhythm,
while his brother’s heart stops.
A baby is born squirming, while another is born still.
Leaves fall, dry and crumbling, to cover the earth,
while beneath them plants and animals burrow deep,
waiting for the first warm breath of spring.
There is no life without death, no death without life.
It is both predictable, and unpredictable.
A puzzle impossible to solve, like trying to count the
stars,
or quantify God’s love.
It’s a circle winding back on itself:
Death touches life touches life touches death.
I mourn the passing of one man’s life.
I rejoice in the extended life of the other.
As I listen to the beat of my father’s heart
(I can hear it, despite the distance,)
I let go
and try to remember—
Love lives on.
This poem is dedicated to my Dad--your bravery in facing heart surgery is a reminder for me to let go of my own fears, and trust that all will be well, because I can't control most things anyway. And to my Uncle JD-- your soft voice, warm smile and big heart will be missed by many.
