All That I Have Written Is Straw. . .

Meanderings of a Catholic Devout

Rummaging

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I am exhausted.  My old house is no longer mine.  All that was in it is now crammed into my smaller two-bedroom apartment.  Dozens of friends have helped and the depth of my gratitude will have to be expressed once I have slept.

Among many of the items that were in the attic of my house were boxes that contained belongings of my late aunt, grandfather and grandmother.  When my grandfather had died, my father took all of these belongings into his home.  When my dad died, I had to take them from his home.  I had no strength to go through them.  But now I do.  I began rummaging through one of the bins today.

I have decided that the dead do not care about material possessions.  I have little if no sentimental attachment to most of the stuff in these bins.  I’m sorting through what may be of use or value to someone else and tossing the rest.  Old photographs of my family, of course, I will keep, but the 1980s Christmas wreath earrings have got to go!  I do no need these possessions to define my identity.  I remember who these people were.  They need only take up space in my heart, not in my home.

And then I found this poem that my grandfather wrote.  It was written after his wife died.  I never knew my grandfather to be a poet.  Who knew?  I am going to keep this treasure, but I wanted to bring it to new life by posting it here:

My Dear Wife Eloiza

It matters not where I go

It matters not what I say or do.

There is always someone by my side,

And that someone, dear, is you.

Each hour of the day, and each step of the way

I’m walking hand in hand with you.

I see your face in the morning sun

At noon you are with me yet.

But when darkness follows the setting sun

Comes hours I can never forget.

When God reached down from Heave above

And took the hand of the one I loved.

All I have left is “sweet memories”

Of happy days and months and years.

And the “interest” I pay on “our loan of love”

Is measured only by my heart full of tears.

When God sees fit to call me home

To be by your side, Sweetheart,

He’ll unite us again—in Eternal love,

And never, never more to part.

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Written by Written Straw

May 7, 2010 at 9:03 am

Posted in Life

Tagged with , , , , ,

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