Monday, July 23, 2012

Being a pirate

A quick update:

I'm still here in the Palouse, surrounded by ripening wheat and garbanzo beans awaiting harvest. While they reach their height in the sun, here at my sister's house, we're doing a different kind of waiting. It's an odd thing a family does in the first days of grief. Stranger still is the awkwardness of being with that family when not a part of it. Because of the truth of the Psalmist's statement, "My times are in your hands," my brother found himself right in the middle of a family not his own from the first moment of the patriarch's death. He sat in the man's house when the first calls were made, has been present with our brother-in-law and sister in hard moments all week. And due to the geographical logistics of travel, I joined them Friday.

Of course it would be natural to me to think about death in general and this death in particular.

I am more aware than ever of the boundaries of this blog.  Though it is right and fair for me to ponder death and God's presence with a person in his last moments, this is not the time. To be respectful of a man I love who is married to my sister whom I dearly love, I have been carefully holding my peace this week. If you know me, you will know exactly what that costs.

In fact, here's how I'd put it: The other night, in order to take minds from the ache of the week, my sister and her family had a game night. We played a ridiculous game of QUELPH (like Cranium on drugs!).  At one point, I pulled a card which said I had to speak like a pirate for the rest of the game. Ahoy matey, shivery-timbers, that was hard. So hard, in fact, that it effectively rendered me as close to mute as I have ever been.

Being here this week, consciously NOT writing about this renders me mute in the face of it, like being something foreign to myself.  Yes, I'm a silent pirate this week. Praying for those who sail a new sea in a storm of grief, perhaps.

Land ho!

1 comment:

Pamela M. Steiner said...

A very restless sea indeed. Not a pleasant place to be, and yet, why not? When we are so close to witnessing one enter heaven's gates, why should we be sad and quiet? There should be celebrations when we are ushered into the presence of the Most High God...but I understand the reverence of it all. Still...while we waited for my father to take his final breath, we told stories about all the fun things we did together when we were growing up, and how much fun our dad had made our lives just by being himself. It helped us to start the celebration early, celebrating his life...and thanking the Lord for being a part of it all. Each family is different...and handles this time uniquely. But pirates and games? why not? I don't think heaven is going to be a quiet, sad place...