Saturday, December 27, 2014

First Hand

27 December 2014
SB

We go suddenly from is to was.
Time is frozen in a picture that holds
a smile we know, have always known,
have always remembered in motion,
but it’s done now. The smile is now
a thing to be painted or written about,
described for those who never knew it
first hand.

Friday, December 26, 2014

Our Dear Sam

Samuel de Lyra Butler
b. 8 January 1947
d. 25 December 2014

Uncle Sam had a name for his many nieces. We were always his Special Grils. I'd say it was an exclusive club, but I realized this week that it wasn't. It didn't have to be. Sam had love to go around, and he smothered us in it, to the exclusion of no one. He brought together people who wouldn't much care for each other, otherwise. And I'm certain he had just as many ways of making his few nephews, of which my brother was one, feel loved and a part of something rare and wonderful and absolute, from which they could not be ejected. Once you're Uncle Sam's Skipping Partner (a recent nickname my brother told me he was baptized into), you've got something special, and it can't be taken away. The memories of his devotion and sincerity (and goofiness) are very nearly as compelling as the man himself.

That is one of the realizations to come from his passing. Once you've known him, his story, and that vibrant, silly, funny, teddy bear love he gave, you’re changed. Despite all he'd seen and been through--and there was grief and tragedy and trauma to go around- he was a light and a refuge, always. When you reflect on his life, you might be just a little challenged to love better, and to cast the net of your love wider.

Goodbye, dear, sweet Sam. We are blessed to have had you all this time. So very blessed. May your memory be eternal.

With love, one of your Special Grils,
Carie Christine

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Christmas Day

25 December 2014
SB

He was already gone.
The thing breathing for him didn’t keep him
closer while we tried to say goodbye,
more for us than for him.

I’m so far away, it’s hard not to
wish he’d stayed a little longer
so I could tell him
how I wish I’d made the time
after his first near-death experience.

I never considered there’d be another,
so much closer he couldn’t make it back
to all of us here, wondering what we’ll do
without him.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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