DEATH DOES NOT END A RELATIONSHIP

My dad died one year ago today on May 10, 2007. I appreciate my relationship with my dad that I continue today. I wrote about the day Though My Dad Died He Lives On
and also
I Sang for My Father Precious Memories
Because of My Dad Know I Have Known What Love Feels Like

The relationship of connectedness or lacking of connectedness that we have with a mother or a father are monumentally important. They affect us in everything. I continue to try to accept that my mother is what she is. Not what I thought she was, but what she is.

Last mother's day was spent away from my son. I spent the morning on that mother's day in Indiana, my son in Rhode Island. I was sitting in church with a congregation of the people that I grew up with. My brother sitting by my side from Hawaii. We were there for dad though his body had no more life in it. That afternoon I sang hymns to my dad in the casket ~ sitting on a stool and being with him ~ in a way that was denied the last time I was in Indiana while he was alive.

I touched his cold hands and cheeks. It was real. He was gone. And yet...
death does not end a relationship. Mine with my father is clearer than ever. He was genuine, there was no charade of pretending to care for me. That in the end became to be so very important to me.

Dad waited for me to sing one last time The Old Rugged Cross while the phone was held to his ear. The last communication he had with me, because he couldn't talk and was too weak to respond to my suggestion to squeeze the nurse's hand to say that he loved me was to wink with his left eye. His last breath was taken when I sang the last word of the song.

My dad was not a pretender. He was the best parent at the end when who he truly was ~ was transparent. There is nothing that can be better than to have a parent who is authentic.

I love you, Dad. Thank you, I know you are my angel.

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I Know You By Heart
Sung by Eva Cassidy
Uploaded by varme0vn

On Giving
Kahlil Gibran

You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

There are those who give little of the much which they have--and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.

It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.

You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be, than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.

And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father.
On Giving

On Death
Kahlil Gibran

You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.


In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?


For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?


Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
On Death

Kahlil Gibran On Children

Kahlil Gibran On Love

Kahlil Gibran On Freedom

Kahlil Gibran On Beauty

Kahlil Gibran On Self-Knowledge

Kahlil Gibran On Joy and Sorrow