The Bustle in the House...

The Bustle in a House

The Morning after Death

Is solemnest of industries

Enacted upon Earth—

The Sweeping up the Heart

And putting Love away

We shall not want to use again

Until Eternity.

Emily Dickinson

The face that said, "Will I ever feel better?"
The Colonel made these photos late Wednesday afternoon. He took numerous frames, and in the header above is his masterpiece. For a moment, the sunlight and cool air and time with dad, masked all the weakness and pain.

Underneath that beautiful coat were frail bones and shortness of breath as the ALL
(acute lymphoblastic leukemia) rapidly took its toll.
It was only last week, May 12th, that she was diagnosed.

Wednesday evening, we took Gracie to her vet, and had her put to sleep. Thursday morning, the Colonel and I went downstairs only to fall into the deep hole left behind where she had filled our hearts with her morning greetings in the kitchen. We survived that first morning only to return from work in the evening to the lead reality that she would never again be there with face smiling, tail wagging, and big paw patting us on the leg. It has been sad in this house. It is the price one pays for loving a pet so very much. However, in comparison to all that she gave to us in love, laughter, and joy, the grief is a small price indeed.

As the school year marched on, I had promised myself that I would get in at least one post per month. When I posted about Gracie's tenth birthday last month, I had no idea she was the least bit ill. Every day we can claim health, love, and life is a gift.

Diana: A Celebration...Born July 1, 1961

Among the many artifacts in the the childhood gallery of Diana: A Celebration were several small figurines. I know at least one was a Beatrix Potter character, with its ear or arm broken off. I wish I had written myself a note. For some reason, it is the most haunting memory I have from my May 28th visit to this special presentation at Atlanta's Civic Center. Also quite striking, was the blue HALO vest over a plain white shirt and pale tan jeans that Diana wore when visiting Angola to bring attention to the great dangers of land mines. It was in the gallery with many of her most elegant evening gowns, suits, and matching shoes. We have all seen the images of maimed children, and of Diana comforting them. Perhaps the tiny little figure (no photographs allowed), still much loved and cherished, helped her foresee her future. It stood proudly and left a powerful impression on me, as did her girlhood ballet slippers and her oh so small school uniform.

There are thousands of tributes to the memory of Princess Diana, but on this 49th anniversary of her birthday, July 1, 1961, I thought I would send you to one prepared by the Spencer family. Here is the website of Diana: A Celebration, which closed on June 13th, with the next installation scheduled for Grand Rapids sometime in November. It is beautiful and tasteful, as was Diana. I did not go there expecting to sit in quiet wonder in the gallery with her wedding gown for thirty minutes, but I did. I did not go there expecting to read the hand edited version of Charles Spencer's eulogy and weep for her again, but I did. I did not go there expecting to see a wall of bookshelves filled with condolence books from towns all over the world which were sent to the Spencer family, but there they were! I did not go there expecting to sign a remembrance book, which her brother seemed to KNOW I would need, but I signed it:
" I miss her presence in this world, still ... and every day."

"I once was lost..."

Matthew Ryan Bedford
November 6, 1975 - November 18, 2009

"Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come,

'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far

and Grace will lead me home."

We each may have known that ominous ringing of a telephone--too early in the still darkness of a morning --the modern version of the knelling of a village's chapel bell--that stirs the heart with dread. Thursday morning, my niece so devastated she could barely talk, delivered the news of the death of her youngest brother, Matthew. Could it be any worse? Circumstances added extra agony to this story. After rehab and many weeks of being drug free, with the help and constant support of his devoted mother (my sister), his darling wife, and the joyous presence of their two year-old daughter, Matt faltered; it was a fatal lapse. After a frantic afternoon stretching into late night and a missing person's report, Matt was found slumped over in his car, dead from a drug overdose.

At his funeral yesterday, Father Wells led a Holy Conversation rather than delivering a sermon as part of the Burial of the Dead Rite I from the Book of Common Prayer. He stated that this sort of tragedy calls on each of us not to judge Matthew, but rather to understand that addiction is a terminal illness. It affects everyone, not just the user. It can be rigorously managed, but it is never cured. He reminded us too, that we must focus on the bright day represented by the banner (in the photo) which is draped over his coffin and know that he is now at peace, never to suffer the scourge of addiction again. He then invited anyone present to share a story or just thoughts on the life of Matthew. Many people spoke and told precious stories and made heartfelt comments. His wife stood, looked at the entire gathering and told us how he was a good, kind, and generous man who loved everyone present just as she knew we loved him. It was one the bravest acts I have witnessed in a long time.

After the service ended, Matthew's nephew, Zachary age 18, sang his very soulful and tender rendition of "Forever Young" by Bob Dylan. With that, we each made our first steps toward healing our many broken hearts.

'I borrow from Emily Dickinson when I say, it is the 'Hour of lead.'

However, it is this poem that best expresses the past few days spent with my family.

The bustle in the house

The morning after death

Is the solemnest of industries

Enacted upon earth, -

The sweeping up the heart,

And putting love away

We shall not use again

Until eternity.