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He was 6 years old in his native Lithuania

?         a shy boyish smile in a family photograph

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?         And I noticed his boots-

?         With both feet sitting squarely on the ground

?         that was my father

 

Dad’s Boots as a Young Boy

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And then they came?

So the familty fled eastward?

And then westward?

A father and a brother died in the heat of a Russian idea and its winter

Again they came

So the family packed up and fled

A new country, a new hope

Going to school with other boys

A shy smile in the school football team

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Hard times for the family

A sales job at pitiful pay during pitiful times

Walking many miles to save pennies?

To make pennies

It all helped

Eldest brother by this time was succeeding with a partner who turned out to be rogue

And so now it was brothers in business starting at a low

At first shoemaking was slow- and cumbersome of course

But time and dedication and the needs of a new family with three sons made good for many years

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And all the sons went into a profession

Just a small black nodule on the calf of his leg

No ? not very good

The large glands contained the same foreboding

?Shoe business for sale?? ?Sold?

A fever ? doctors said it may be OK ? but on the other hand it may not

And then it descended

We cried  we cried a lot

I walked along with five others

Two in front

Three to my side

And my mother and brothers were all there

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And I remembered his boots?.

And I hope to stand square on the ground, ?and

With warmth and goodness

I hope to walk in his footsteps

April 1987

Wow and wow
Good morning from Boston
Tevis and Phil ? great stories that chill the bones and give cause to wonder
They fire memories of course of my own parents and the mysteries sadness and inspirations that surround their death

This forum empowers me to write about them despite their deep personal nature ? and well ? just because you have written so poignantly and shared your stories
I tryto understand why we can share such deep experiences and I come up with the thought of trust ? There is an honesty and sincerity that I think pervades these communications probably because we grew up together Who knows why ? but for me the trust is there

Dad

 

When my Dad passed away in 1983 ? had melanoma ? we were sitting shiva in the study which overlooked our garden through a large glass window ? There was a beatiful gray brown pigeon in the garden perched on a branch of the protea and it caught my eye. It cocked its head this way and that for more time than the usual and we were locked in a mysterious stare It may have been 15-30 seconds ? the feeling was a little frightening, and beyond belief ? definitely not the usual ? a sort of communication between us ? It suddenly flew off the branch straight toward me ? seemingly needing some physical contact ( I had not seen my Dad before he died ? was flying from the USA) ending sadly with a crash into the large glass window It lay on the ground for a moment. I did not know what to do so I ran to the kitchen to get some water and by the time I got back it was gone ? hopefully and thankfully revived and was off ? cause and pause for wonder
My mother had always said that if a bird visited before any important event ? it was a lucky sign The doves were the birds we chose for our wedding invitations and for the announcements and the births of our 4 children
 
 

55131 Westpark Cemetry Dad plot V57