I traveled to the Portland, Oregon area, joining dear old friends to celebrate a life that ended far too soon.
For our return the weather caused us to divert from our usual route. Taking in the breathtaking views from the west side of the river instead of the east side, we then crossed the Bridge of the Godsto go up the Columbia River Gorge. This route to the Gorge was a first for both of us.
From grief to comfort to elation. Chris would have loved that.
You were my first friend, my first hero.
Until I discovered John Wayne.
Then our world grew large and mean.
You gave me music,
And then you left.
You made us learn to live without you.
We’d finally begun building a bridge.
Perhaps we’ll finish it soon.
But for now we must say farewell.
Fair winds and following seas, dear “Big Bother”*.
Daddy, Brother and me 1954
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.”**
My Big Brother
January 8, 1952 – April 19, 2018
“When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
1 Corinthians 15:54 (NIV)
*Not a typo – a joke between siblings.
**From To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time by Robert Herrick, 1591 – 1674
No matter where in the world my siblings ever were, on St. Patrick’s Day we always celebrated our heritage, our family and our life together. ‘Tis tradition, don’cha know.
I admit, I did not celebrate this year, my first year back home. Three years ago, almost to the minute I’m now writing, my younger brother Seagh’s heart ruptured, he laid down his Harley, shook himself off and then walked into The Great Beyond. That moment changed everything.
We all adore our darling Seagh. Even as a small boy, he demonstrated extraordinary wisdom. We all came to depend upon him, especially when emotions ran rampant or hard times made our choices seem vague.
Over the years Seagh was always my greatest comfort, my touchstone, helping me make sense of the madness that seemed to be constantly lurking nearby.
After the years he roamed the globe he came home to the family and finally the ranch. For the brief season we were all here together I was entirely contented. I wanted us to stay together and to never leave.
But Seagh always knew something, saw something the rest of us missed. He insisted I stay close to our baby sister, Roan; “She’ll crash and burn without you.” Eventually I resigned to move on to Texas with her. Weeks later I understood why he sent me. Seagh already knew he too would be moving on soon.
Two years after his passing Roan and I were settled in Texas. Then I moved on again. We remain connected across the miles and continue on together – but differently now. Seagh dying when he did seemed to make the world a darker, sadder place and I couldn’t fix that.
It seemed.
Cole and Seagh 2012
Now Roan has Opal and her entourage in Texas. I am at home here at the ranch. I walk where Seagh walked along with Cole, Kendra and Eleven-Year-Old.
Sometimes I believe I can see the world as Seagh saw it. Very often I think I can see his unmistakable stance in the lot or where the patio used to be, one hand in a pocket, the other holding a mug, always taking in life deeply. Sure, I miss hearing him speak his few, pointed words daily. But I hear him.
I can’t conjure up his image on demand. But in the still, quiet of a peaceful day and in the midst of turmoil, I remember his words. When I don’t expect it, they come to me like rain on parched ground. Looking skyward, I soak them in, “You shouldn’t wonder about my soul. God and I are good now.”
Seagh’s death did not end him. Love lives on.
Absolutely.
“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you. … And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1: 3, 6 (NLT)
Is it just me? Or does this particular American Independence Day seem to come with a special uniqueness. I wonder…
In my new neighborhood where daily I see Street People, many in bondage to substances, people seem more hopeless and desperate. And with Brexit, the Presidential Campaign shenanigans, and random acts of intentional mayhem dominating the news headlines, I actually appreciate my freedoms more than ever before.
Each new day from my first breath till I rest at night I make a strong effort to fill my space with thanks for my many blessings. And nearly every day, especially those in which I don’t talk with one of my “kids,” I remember freedom is not free. It’s a good habit.
July 4th is not necessarily about recognizing our Armed Forces, Veterans, First Responders or to remember those who gave their all in the service of their country. Still, without so many Americans who have throughout history and still continue to risk everything to defend our values, standing against insurmountable odds, tyranny and terrorism, again and again we would not have established and grown this land of liberty. Without all the above we would not have the freedom to exercise our rights:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed...”*
I may be myopic here, but especially since the recent attacks on Paris, Orlando and Istanbul, I keep thinking of the line from the 1996 movie Independence Day**:
“…We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps its fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom…”
Maybe I actually am getting old. Or maybe the pressure of world events is exceptionally heavy lately. Still, in the back of my mind the song that inspired me as a child resounds in me today:
God Bless America!
“Therefore I want the men everywhere to pray, lifting up holy hands without anger or disputing.” 1 Timothy 2:8 (NLT)
“Books are like seeds. They can lie dormant for centuries and then flower in the most unpromising soil.” (Carl Sagan); “Nothing ever dies on the Internet.” (anon.); “This is not your father’s Oldsmobile.” (Madison Ave. [m]adman). My posts amalgamate these three philosophical elements into one novel experience; they champion critical thinking, human dignity / equality, levelheaded / even-handed / liberty-based governance and solid environmental stewardship. C’mon in!
We all adore our darling Seagh. Even as a small boy, he demonstrated extraordinary wisdom. We all came to depend upon him, especially when emotions ran rampant or hard times made our choices seem vague.
What Next: Behind Roo's Ruse 