My Causerie

"All great change in America begins at the dinner table." ~ Ronald Reagan

Gone From my Sight September 29, 2013

Filed under: My Causerie — mycauserie @ 9:46 pm

First of all, I want to thank all my friends, family, co-workers, students and PRSSA members for their support of the Walk to END Alzheimer’s on Saturday. Your support was greatly appreciated. It was an emotional time for my family; a few tears shed as we acknowledged the fact that we were now bearing a purple flower from the Promise Garden instead of a yellow one like last year. Each flower color represents the impact Alzheimer’s has had in your life: Blue for those diagnosed with the disease; orange for the general supporter; yellow for the caregivers; and purple for those who have lost someone to the disease.

Picking up those purple flowers reminded us of our loss, but this poem, sent to me by my dear friend Judy Meyer, says beautifully what my heart felt the day my dad died, and I was reminded of it again on Saturday as we stood there holding our purple flowers.

He is gone from us, but on the day my dad died I knew at that very same moment that we were saying goodbye, there were so many of his family members standing at the gates of heaven, saying, “And here he is.” And, he is indeed just as strong and amazing of a man now as he was when he was within my sight. He is gone only from my sight. That is all.

“Gone From my Sight” by Henry Van Dyke

Photo Credit: Cengiz.uskuplu via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: Cengiz.uskuplu via Compfight cc

I am standing upon the seashore.

A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze

and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.

I stand and watch her until at length

she hangs like a speck of white cloud

just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says:

“There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull

and spar as she was when she left my side;

and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says:

“There, she is gone!”

There are other eyes watching her coming,

and other voices ready to take up the glad shout,

“Here she comes!”
And that is dying.


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