f o r e v e r y o u n g

I want to thank Kathleen Mae Schneider

for hosting Shady's Place in my absence.

As some of you already know, I have been

away from blogging since Thursday, Nov. 8,

to join family members in keeping a bedside

vigil. As it was a year ago when our son's

wife died unexpectedly, we are currently

mourning the sudden loss of another

close family member. 

Two weeks ago Mrs. Shady's sister,

May Lynn, was declared terminally

ill and taken to a hospice facility.

After a valiant battle that went on

days longer than doctors predicted,

May Lynn passed away in peace.

The long, emotionally draining days and nights spent at the hospice
watching and waiting, gave me plenty of time to think, to reflect
and to meditate. On day one I stepped out of May's room
and noticed the sign on a door directly across the hall.

The sign forbade visitors from entering

the area on the other side because it

was restricted to "employees only."

Curious, I peeked through the small

window on the door searching for

clues as to why I was not permitted

to enter. I expected to see medical

equipment or hospice staff at work,

but all I saw on the other side of

the door was an empty corridor.

Three days later, as I walked around exploring the facility to pass the time,

I decided to try a hallway that I had not yet bothered to traverse. Curious

to find out where the hall led, I strolled until it came to an end, my

progress blocked by a door with a sign identical to the one that

had caught my attention the first day.

My musical mind started playing the song:

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign.

Blocking out the scenery,

breaking my mind.
Do this! Don't do that!

Can't you read the signs?

Still curious, I decided to peek through the tiny window on the door.

There before me, only a few feet away, was my family gathered

around May's bed. Turns out I had walked all the way around

the building only to arrive at the spot on the other side of

the door across from May's room, the mysterious

corridor that I had gazed upon the first day.

I was standing in the very same space,

in a public hallway... that the sign

warned was off limits to visitors!

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

In closing would like to share with you the two most poignant

moments of the ordeal, an image and a song that are now

permanently ingrained in my mind, linked to the events

of this past week. As May lay dying, her daughter

brought her kindergarten age son to the hospice

to see his grandmother one last time and to

say goodbye. The African-American boy

brought with him a hand written note

that read, "I love you, Granny!"

He placed his note in May's hand

and enclosed her fingers around it

for safe keeping. The sight of a little

black boy sharing love with his white

grandmother in her final hours was

inspiring. It gave me hope.

Love knows no race. Love knows no color.

 The family was so touched by the boy's gesture

that they decided his note should go along with May

into eternity. His message was still clenched in her

hand as she was taken away for cremation.

Why are we here?

What is our reason for living

if not to love?

May Lynn's favorite artist was Rod Stewart. As May, only 58 years old,
clung to life in her hospice bed, her daughter played for her a medley
of Rod's hits. Everyone in the room wept when this one came on,
a song that says it all-- "Forever Young."

My blogging hiatus needs to continue a while longer. Mrs. Shady's brother,
a 60 year old special needs retarded man with the mental capacity of
a five year old, is flying in from California to stay with us nine days.
We will need to break the news to him that his sister is gone. Surely
it will result in yet another emotionally wrenching scene. In the
days ahead the family plans to grant May's deathbed wish and
scatter her ashes at her favorite beach on the Atlantic coast.
Naturally Mrs. Shady and I will be making the trip across
the peninsula to attend that memorial ceremony. I will
return to full time blogging as soon as circumstances
permit. Thank you, dear friend, for understanding
the important reason for my continued absence.