Jan. 11, 2003 - 21:48 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Before I Go

In our apartment are many things given us, together or individually. Pictures of children, grandchildren and the greats too, at different stages of growth. All treasures to say the least. Birthdays and Christmases we are always showered with things, wonderfully thoughtful things too.

I like presents, those glittering, finely crafted things, more expensive than I feel I deserve.

I enjoy having possessions given by family and have the height of happiness using them.

Our family gatherings are super fun too. It is wonderful fun to be knee deep in great grandchildren and their folks. Their scampering and noise wears on me after about so long though.

In our bunch family feeling runs deep and smooth. Some of us might be having a personal difficulty, but other than give help when asked for, family things are are the most pleasant occasions one could ask for.

It would appear that there is nothing else needed in my life. Oh, but there is and those needed things happen periodically but not as frequently as I would like to see them come along. In between there is no pouting or depression, it just seems there is something missing somewhere.

A gift I treasure beyond measure is one on one time with our adult children. They all work and have in-laws too. They have recreational time that Heather and I cannot physically do anymore. They run short on time to do things. Once in a while they have the time to come visit us, one of our children accompanied by a mate. I can hear fairly well in that type of encounter, there is no cross talk or child chatter interfering to confuse my addled ears. At a time like that we pretty much speak in rotation or at least we don't interrupt each other, athough the temptation to interrupt to make a telling blow comes to each of us. But we let it pass and keep on course. And the subject usually stays on course until it is mutually changed.

Its not my dim ears but it is something I have dreamed of since our kids were babies. It seems like many folk, including a majority of women want their kids to remain babies forever. But as each child grew it was a joy to me to see the spark of intelligence alight and burn bright in their eyes, fantastic when they began to truly communicate. Each step along the way showed their work in progress toward adulthood. To sit in conversation with one of our children is a magic thing for me. We don't all necessarily think alike always, but do make room for each other's opinions and consider the things they say. I have been known to change my mind about something due to a thing coming out in discourse. Heather and I engaged with adults that happen to be ones we bathed,diapered, bottled and burped, once small enough that their little bum could be held in the palm of my hand and their head nowhere near my elbow joint.

The sign of respect and love at a funeral are great sprays of lovely flowers, wreaths on stands, people wearing their very best clothes and behaving as if Mom is behind them ready to rap their skull if they so much as chuckle or talk out loud. People speaking in muted voices, almost whispers.

I am not knocking those things, they fill a needed spot in our society a civilized way to grieve it seems. Memorial Day we go flower the graves of family and then go to breakfast. That is good.

But the nicest thing that happens every year is Heather and nieces, the two daughters of her little sister, meet for a meal on the date of her death in the places she used to love to go. A time of relaxation, remembering and happy chatter -- looks like the way to go to me.

What would I say to my family if I didn't think it would be slightly out of line ? Something like this, "I will soon be eighty one years old and my time is of course limited. If it makes you all feel better to do the conventional funeral bit, that's fine with me. One thing though, after the planting, y'all go out and have a nice dinner, and have fun visiting. Memories if you wish, but no tears shed if you please."

"But what I really want is for you to come by, visit us, talk to us, give us a hug, a pat and have coffee and cake or whatever and have intelligent conversation with us." "I won't be able to see the fine clothes and manners, nor smell the gorgeous flowers at my funeral - - So, visit me often, Before I Go" . . . . . . . . .

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