Finding The Thread


In memory,
a thread begins to reveal itself.
Ahead are endless, unplanned days.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“You have to have a plan”, I told everyone.
But where is my plan?
If I could see ahead just a little,
maybe I could unravel it.
Walking into the spare bedroom this morning
to raise the shades,
the view turned from dark
to sunshine.
A scene exploded in memory.
I could see my father lying on the bed we borrowed
from Hospice.
We’d moved the regular bed from the room.
I wanted his last days
to be spent with a view of our peaceful world;
the trees,
our flock of sheep,
the horses in the pasture.
As long as he was able,
he rested on his side
watching them.
I hope he loved the quiet scene.
The Lord is my Shepherd…
He makes me to lay down in green pastures. 
He restores my soul”.
I hope my Father’s soul was restored.
He knew what he was facing.
He wouldn’t talk to us about it.
That was his way of dealing
with the impending transition.
We visited with Dad,
as did many friends
in those last few days.
We could only face the situation
by continuing our daily routines.
He did his best
to honor our game.
Dad didn’t retire
until the age of sixty-nine.
It seemed like a grand old age in those years.
Now it seems rather young to me.
He always had a plan,
a routine,
an interest, and a goal.
He was disciplined,
loving and reliable,
 committed to his family. 
What about me?
There are many questions,
 not many answers.
I want my life to count for something.
 Have I stopped counting?
What will happen to the generations
who have not had the parenting or the communities
in which my generation was privileged to live?
What happens in the single parent family
when the parental balance
does not exist?
What happens to the marriage,
with no plans for commitment?
What happens to adults who weren’t raised
with a Dad and Mother like mine?
The last two generations have given us a preview.

Has the media become the parent?
Is the media making our moral judgments?
Everyone is doing it, so why shouldn’t I?
Blame can always be affixed to someone,
By what moral standards does this new generation make its’ decisions?
There is a new intensity in my nightly prayers.
 He is much closer.
 My time to see Him face to face
is much nearer than before.
I see the thread.
Photography By Mary Anne Tuck