There'll be laughter

There'll be laughter, even after-

You're gone.

I'll find reason, to face

That empty dawn

For I've memorized each line in your face

And not even death could ever replace-

The stories they tell to me.

I'll miss you...Oh how I'll miss you...

And I'll cry a million tears

But the sorrow will pass

And the one thing that will last-

Is the love..you've given...to me.

There'll be laughter...

written by Iris Dement

A good friend recently lost her dear-sweet husband too soon. I had written in the past of having friends (I'm very blessed with incredible friends who share their lives with me and teach me oh-so-much about love.)

who are truly living lessons in devotion to their mates. This couple were my number two teachers. Yep- I've got another set of soul mates who had been my model for what it must be like to live for an other's happiness. These two couples could not be separated, even in names. They were always the two names said in one breath, in one instance. Death was the only thing that could ever part any of them physically. And death has entered in and left a striking void...and all I can attest too at this time, for this I know and know too well; love never really dies. For them, for their families- mountains may seem like their twin. And for some time, there they will stand in the shadow of the mountain and they'll wonder, waking and in their dreams- how they'll ever get over it.

These things I write here are not meant to sadden but to make aware - the people who share your life are gifts of love. A blessing that must be kissed frequently, reprimanded gently in an argument and loved completely at all times. That's how one moves mountains, by knowing in time- that all was said and all was done, that there will be laughter again because you knew it oh so sweetly before, gratefully acknowledging that no one else could have made you smile so. No one else could have filled you up and made you know more everything than might ever have been discovered or even wished for on your own.

The song up above says so much more than I could ever conjure up. I sang it this morning, thinking of E-and-Jim. I sang it once more- just to see if I could get through it without the waterworks.

How death humbles us, weakens us, batters us- but never, when love is involved- diminishes us.

There'll be laughter...

veers a little south...

I feel so blessed by the folks in my life...those I see, and those whom I'll never even meet. They stumble in, check my pulse by the words I write- I just want you to know that it means more than I can say, truly.

There is an old Bluegrass song that has always been one of my favorites

"I Want My Friends To Pray For Me".

I never gave it much thought the first time I heard it, the title seems a bit selfish, wanting a prayer said for you...but the song goes on to say how affirming it is to be able to hope, perhaps never truly asking- that someone might lift you up in prayer by speaking your name.

I think that just might be the beauty of blogging, perhaps it is the very thing that we all need, the net of amazing graces found here. Some vent, some wail, some seek, some find I suppose, a sympathetic ear...but I can't help but wonder if it is more than that. Perhaps it is like that old tin cup attached to a string that you ran from your garage as a kid, to your neighbors upstairs window and you spoke, "Hello!" The sound waves traveled through the string up and over and through the hedge to a listening ear that heard the voice or felt the vibe. It was exhilarating as a child to feel that- as if the wheel had just been invented by two knock-kneed kids with fruit cocktail cans held up to their ears.

"I hear you! I hear you!" And then we'd drop our cans and meet at the bushes and smile... beaming grins from ear to ear.

Hear I sit with my old rusty can, the string a bit tattered and worn, but...I hear you! I hear you!!!!

-how sweet the sound...

(Hoping upon hope that I get to bring Grandma home today, or- tomorrow. Home being the optimum word, she's in better spirits, accepting all and anything, took me a bit to get there. But, once again- she's taught me that some things might rob you, some things fulfill you and some things...just have to be. And some things, the best ...aren't really things at all.

She said (after all the indignity she has suffered, the pokes and guinea pig explorations),

"...you have to forget all that and just go on."

Oh grandma, I'm trying you-old-sweet-pain-in-the-rear-sometimes-always-grand-dame, I am trying.

(I may have to live as long as Grandma Mocko to get the lessons right...or wrong and "just go on", as she has advised. Darn it. She can come right out of the haziest fog, look me straight in the eye and be so damned righteous...ooohhhh, she goes right for my throat, veers a little south and pokes me in the heart.)

Mother's Day...tears and laughter, joy and pain-

this day will be the one that really brings it home...

What it means to be a mother,

to be mothered and to be... Grand.