A year has gone by since the death of my uncle, and my trek across country to honor him. The beginning of the trip was detailed in my story "Shining Light, Casting Shade" and was part of what inspired me to start blogging. It has taken a while for me to reflect on everything that trip meant to me, and I have nearly composed my thoughts on it, which touch on the always perplexing topics of "Who am I? What is my purpose?"
I believe that those questions remain perplexing, even as we get closer to their answers, because life changes us. It is dynamic and requires constant course correction. Weathering changes may get easier, and a sense of self may grow, but for all that, I'm not sure that loss ever becomes less painful. No abstractions or words can ever fill in for a person.
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| Photo by David Kozlowski 2010 via Flickr |
My uncle was one of those people who knew himself and his place in life so well, and was also well-known for how he had spent his time on earth. This made it easy to feel his legacy of authenticity as a priceless gift as I said goodbye. I have more thoughts on this that aren't yet settled, but decided to go ahead and share the poem that I read aloud as part of the eulogy, to mark the anniversary.
I wrote this poem several years ago, just to preserve a rich memory for myself, and had no inkling that it would become public in any way. But it showed up for others when it was timely and took its place with its own purpose.
The Benediction
Uncle Red rests one hand
on the top of the wheel
of his metallic golden pick-up.
He listens to me chirp and chat
or stays silent when I am.
We gaze upon mellowed fields
ready for harvest.
We pass another farmer
behind another windshield.
Red smiles and steers as
he lifts one large arthritic finger,
the rest relaxed in a curve
and bestows a benediction
on his fellows
-- Lizbeth Leigh 2011
© copyright 2015 Gilded Lily Press
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