“Cloudy Passage”
A “V” of 16 geese flew over me, calling out to one another, heading south. The sight and sounds leave me bereft and teary eyed. Saying good-bye to old friends—not knowing if they’ll make it back here in the spring. Not knowing if I’ll still be here to greet them.
“Cloudy Passage”. Copyright © 2016-11-25, by Lizl Bennefeld.
When they leave us, each autumn, I stop to listen to their call. If I can, I step outside to watch them approach, then fly past, calling as they fly. Today they flew above our back yard. It always hurts, their abandonment over winter. I thrill to see and hear the geese as they pass. And when they’ve gone, I almost always cry.
Quilted Poetry 
Very touching, poignant even. Hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving and all are well in your home. Happy weekend. Xx
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We had a lovely time with Al’s sisters and their families, yesterday evening. A bit of a rough time, remembering how many years ago my mother quit inviting us to Hawley for the day, but they were too old, really, for either entertaining or traveling in uncertain weather.
We drove to the home town, today, to visit Father in the assisted living center where he’s planning to spend the winter months. His first Thanksgiving not at home with Mother since the end of WW II.
First Thanksgiving without the opportunity to interact with her. We will go through a lot of “firsts” in a row. Thanksgiving, when we always decorated the tree, back in the day. Christmas, the church service and family gathering. New Year’s Day gathering to take down the tree and box up all the decorations for next year…of which there will be none. And then Easter and the resurrection. And Pentecost, which was Mother’s favorite celebration on the church calendar of our faith.
Two weeks until the Celebration of her life, and then the next morning, celebration of Father’s 100th birthday. So far, it looks as though the only siblings still among the living who will not be joining us are two brothers, one in California and one … we don’t know for sure.
I am so pleased that the poem … spoke to you.
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There are many celebrations in your near future, though perhaps bittersweet at the same time. Your poem really did speak to me…we just never know, do we?
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No, we don’t know, but we seldom in the course of life consider all the pieces of other people’s lives that will go awry when someone dies, oneself or another. We are more interdependent than we sometimes would care to believe. “Who would miss me?” “What difference do I make, just by living?” We might be surprised, if ever we were to know those answers.
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I wholeheartedly agree Lizl ❤
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