(Wiki Commons)

 

So I am totally being lazy in the Soren Kierkegaard class I'm taking. Assigned to read Plato's "Euthyphro", I haven't been able to read more than a few pages before having my brain scream "Nope" and start daydreaming of how cute K would look in a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. 

 

After this occured about five times, I took a break to read an article about Margaret Mead and James Baldwin's 1971 discussion of race, guilt and forgiveness at Brainpickings. 

 

Also, I am well-aware of the extreme nerdiness going on in just the first three sentences of this post, so for those who got brain fogged when I discussed aporia last week, feel free to skip this. I'm sure some celeb will tweet a fool before Lent ends and I'll blog about that.

 

The Brainpickings piece includes a number of excerpts from that discussion, which was later transcribed into a book called "A Rap on Race". At one point, while talking about guilt versus responsibility, Baldwin says, "For whom the bell tolls... It means everybody’s suffering is mine."

 

"For whom the bell tolls", besides being the title of one of Ernest Hemingway's greatest novels, is a line from a John Donne poem. If you're not up on your seventeenth century literature, let me help you out:

 

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

 

There's a really interesting backstory to this work that you can read about here if you're so interested. 

 

So we're all connected, not tenny little islands afloat. When one person dies, there are innumerable ripples reaching out in this big sea of life.

 

And when one of us flourishes, we feel that, too. 

 

My friend April texted me with the awesome news that her hubby Gary accepted a prestigious position overseas. They're excited with all the possibilities that living abroad will bring. 

 

I immediately texted the news to K. He mentioned to me at least three times just how incredible it was to him. Keep in mind, April is my friend (since Victory Christian Academy, ha), and he has never met either of them. Yet, he texted:

 

"I don't really know him but I'm proud. Pushes me to lace up my boots and get back to work. Inspiration."

 

Ripples and ringing bells, felt and heard by all.

 

Reflection for the day: Not totally unlike the Q Continuum, if you follow Christ, you're part of one body. Okay, it's not really like the Q but I've been talking to Joe a lot lately.

 

(Source)

 

 

 

Momma Kathy is busy, with the help of Monica, arranging Daddy's funeral.

 

I don't know how she's doing it. I haven't been sleeping well for over a week, and combined with migraines and sinus pain, CIDP is kicking my butt right now.

 

I was thinking about a time we were riding back from seeing Dad at the nursing home in October. It was late, she was driving and wanted some conversation. I started asking her conversations about her life as a teen- how was it like being one of only a handful of Black kids in a nearly all White high school in 1960s Milwaukee? Who was your first boyfriend? How did you get so good at doing makeup?

 

As she talked about her past, I got the chance to see her in another light, to know a different side of her.

 

Finally I asked her, "What did you see in my dad? Like... what made you fall for him?" She blushed. "Larry... he made me laugh. He keeps me from being too serious." I watched her face as she talked about him. Her eyes brightened and a smile spread across her face.

 

In the past few days, people have shared stories about my dad. Larry as organist, funny guy, big brother, silly uncle, choir director, joking grandpa- it seems everyone has a tale that reveals yet another piece of the whole man.

 

Scripture tells us there is One who knows the entirety of us all. In fact, Psalm 139:16 says, "Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." 

 

 

Reflection for the day: God knows all of our stories, from cover to cover.

 

 

My daddy passed away today a few minutes after one P.M. Defying expectations, he survived over two days off the respirator, which makes perfect sense knowing how big his heart was and how powerful those lungs, which powered a loud booming voice, were.

 

I want to thank everyone who's reached out to offer sympathy, prayers and condolences. It's truly appreciated. Please continue to keep us in your prayers.

 

To my beautiful stepmother, Kathy: Thank you, thank you, thank you for loving my daddy. Over the past ten months, you've driven thousands of miles, fought for the best medical care, kept all of us informed, handled legal and financial issues, and slept so many nights in stiff, plastic hospital chairs. You exemplify the love of Christ.

 

To Monica: You're such an awesome sister! My goodness, you've logged major mileage flying back and forth from Milwaukee to Jersey! Thank you for taking care of Momma.

 

To Velvet: You've been more like a big sister than a cousin to me, and you know Daddy loved you like a daughter. Thank you and Mike for stepping in and up on so many occasions.

 

To John: When Jos died, and on Thursday, you made me laugh. Real, earnest, heart-warming laughter. Laughter truly is medicine.

 

To Uncle Curtis: What can I say... but, he was my first hero, too. And, I'm so sorry, so very sorry.

 

To Jenny: Daddy loved you, your laugh and your great big hugs! I know he thanked God for bringing you into Joe's life and bringing him another daughter.

 

To Joe: Here's to "Star Trek: TNG", spreading love via "Take 6", fetching blue woolen booties, cool Wildwood nights, and blue cheese dressing. In our minds, these things will live eternally.

 

Daddy: You kiss Jos for me. I love you.

 

 

 

Reflection for the day: If you have your dad, tell him you love him.

 

We sat today, waiting. Waiting for my dad to die.

 

He was moved to hospice this week, and a little after 11 this morning, they shut off the respirator.

 

My grandmother, cousin Velvet, her husband Mike, cousin John, brother Joe, his wife Jenny, stepmom Kathy, her sister Monica, K, Z and I all sat vigil. Prayed, sang, talked and laughed. Streamed music through an iPad and sipped coffee and tea.

 

Hours passed, and my dad kept on breathing on his own. Well, that surprises me not at all because like Frank Sinatra, he does things his way. 

 

In fact, 11 hours later, as we left, he was still breathing independently. Momma Kathy and Monica are there still, trying to get some rest.

 

On Saturday, our family met with one of the hospice workers, also named Kathy. She compared the process of dying to the process of giving birth. It can take hours, sometimes even days to fully complete.

 

So we wait.

 

Earlier, I whispered into my daddy's ear, "Give Jos a kiss for me." 

 

As I sat down, K said, "Did you see that? He just smiled."

 

K standing watch while John looks on.

 

 

Reflection for the day: I love you, Daddy.