For the second consecutive day, I awakened with tears in my eyes. Grief has the wherewithal to transport one back in time. This morning, I was twenty-five years old again. It was Friday, December 29, 1972. We arrived in Odessa mid-afternoon. We were in town for Treva's brother's wedding. With time to spare, we stopped by my parent's home for a quick hello and goodbye before we made it to the home of Treva's parents. As it turned out, I never got beyond my parent's house that weekend.
We were met at the door by a long-term family friend. I could tell from the look on Jo Baker's face that something was terribly wrong. It was then that we learned that two Marines had just left my parents' home after informing them that Ron's aircraft was missing somewhere over North Vietnam. The plane had failed to return to its home base the night of December 27th. He was now officially Missing in Action.
Yesterday morning, I made a short list (inside my head) of folks I needed to notify that Ronnie was coming home. Unmistakably, Jo Baker was on that list. Her husband Rusty is now on the other side of eternity. He too, would have been on my list.
Yesterday would have been my mother's 98th birthday. Later in the day, Jo responded to my blog: "I feel so honored that you felt the need to call me in person with the good news. As this is the birthday of your mother (my best friend for many years) made it even more special. Through the years, I have stopped and been by the tree planted on UTPB property in honor of Ronnie. Tomorrow, I plan to stop there again and say a prayer of thanks. Thank you for the wonderful news."
What incredible thoughtfulness! As I write these words, my eyes are once again filled with tears. I am not an expert on the grief process, but after 51 years, I've discovered that when one loves intensely, that love is never ending. Consequently, how that love subsequently unfolds itself becomes the challenge.
Eventually, with the passing of time, the conscious awareness of grief begins not to darken the totality of every day. The pursuit of living brings with it opportunities and challenges that offer diversion and respite from the sense of loss. Life places family, friends, opportunities, work responsibilities, and a variety of other good things to assist in offering a diversion that precludes life from becoming one dimensional and totally absorbed in perpetual sadness. The dawning of a new day emotionally does not come quickly, but it does eventually offer an upside to the reminders of loss.
I talked with my niece last night concerning how privileged we are to plan a celebration of life service for her dad. I suspect it will multi-dimensional, promoting both laughter and tears. Aren't those the best kind of services when one leaves with a sense of gratitude that they were in attendance.
Many of you shared such thoughtful and kind words in response to the news that Ronnie is coming home. We feel surrounded by your love and support, and we are grateful.
All My Best!
Don
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