An Irrelevant Rant of An Ambiguous Old Man

(A Tribute To My Mother)... When my father was sick and hospitalized, I moved back into the family home so that my mother  would not be alone.  On selected days of the week I drove her to the hospital and on the other days I went alone to visit.  There were those who said my reasoning was trying to get close to my mother so I could get control of her money.  I, like my father and mother and several of my brothers have never flaunted status,  wealth,  not even  the size of stock holdings as a means of demeaning people.  

Tempted and tried, we’re oft made to wonder

Why it should be thus all, the day long;

While there are others living about us,

Never molested, though in the wrong.

When he was first hospitalized many religious zealots appeared in the hospital corridor and prayed the prayer of Faith.   I often went to the hospital expecting to see him walking around and talking.  When his condition worsens and was transferred to a nursing home the visits soon ceased.   It was decided that God was not going to perform a miracle.  There was no ministerial staff to comfort my mother, who had dedicated her life to the church, nor was there a list of volunteers waiting to sit with her.   She bore her grief and many nights during his long sickness, I would hear her cry out.   Many times I interrupted the serving of breakfast to wipe tears from her eyes.  

Often when death has taken our loved ones,
Leaving our home so lone and so drear,
Then do we wonder why others prosper,
Living so wicked year after year.

During the long days of his sickness, I become known as the young man who sit by his father beside in the nursing home and sang,  "Farther  along we will know all about it" As a child growing up in the church I often sang with my father.  I knew and accepted that the time of his departure was at hand, and as a gesture of respect, I promised my father that I would sing at his home going. 

Farther along we’ll know more about it,

Farther along we’ll understand why;

Cheer up, my brother, live in the sunshine,

We’ll understand it all by and by.

On the day of his memorial services, men of high honor and dubious distinctions took to the podium to lavish praise and honor, but none of these distractions brought comfort to my mother's bleeding heart.  My mom waited for that moment at the close of the service when I would sing my farewell song to my father, her plans were to assist me as much as she could as we had practiced at home.   At the last minute from the  podium the program was changed.  "I never sung for my father. "

I will always remember the last time I saw my mother cry. It was when she buried one of her younger sons.  We cried together, then we both grew stronger together, and promised to never cry again.  This promise became so deeply ingrained in my physic, that for an entire year after her death I have not shed a tear.  Sometime in the lonely hours of the night I long to shed a tear, but her voice is there, “you are strong”, she says, “don’t cry for me.”

We miss him dearly but we must all answer the call of God.  In closing, from the words of his mother during their last conversation at her house on Sunday, Nov. 16, 2008, before his passing on November 21, 2008, “The Lord’s will be done, son.  The Lord’s will be done.”  Therefore, Father, nevertheless, not our will but thy will be done.” St. Matthew 26:39

1. Often when death has taken our loved ones,
   Leaving our home so lone and so drear,
   Then do we wonder why others prosper,
   Living so wicked year after year.
2. The fragility of relationships terrifies me, and often make me think of the ordeal of life.  How we endure the labor of  years of sacrifice, so that those left behind will have the best that life has to offer, only to discover in the end that it had all been for so little.  Life itself, can be a very perplexing endeavor.  In order to enjoy life, it is necessary that we seek the memories of the past to aid us in appreciating the future.  But what happens when the past becomes muddled, and our future becomes insecure.  We become trapped in an abyss, and our only hope is that we will not  forget to struggle as the darkness overtakes us.  And yet, as the road home turns dark, somehow we know through hope in our immortal deity, it will become clear again after Final Frame.
3. IYears have passed but it seems as if it was yesterday, the day I returned to the old homeplace.  I turned left at the mailboxes, and entering the rocked driveway leading to my mother’s house, I saw her standing alone in the yard.  She looks much older than she did last month or even last week.   I know she was aging rapidly.  She seems to have lost some of her reason or will to live.  After being married for over sixty years, and raising a family, suddenly being alone seems like a tragedy.  
4. I parked my car under the big Elm trees that shaded the front of the house. These trees are older than I am.  The big oaks out by the road are older than I am also; I think they are older than my dad was too.  There are many grand oak trees on the home place.  These are trees that have withstood the test of time.  These trees have touched and offered comfort to our ancestors. 
5. 
6. My mother never expected to live in this house alone. She picked out the spot and Augusta had built the house to suit her.  After years of happiness life played it hand, soon after burying her oldest son, she then buried her husband. In her older years she expected her middle son to take care of her.  He died at a very young age. 
7. I stumbled from my bed, and in a stupor I pulled back the curtains, and looked out of the window.  The raindrops clinging to the leafless tree branches, invoked a state of depression and deja vu, that made me rush to the kitchen to get my first cup of coffee.   With cup of coffee in hand, I sat down at my computer and stared at the screen.  The warmth of coffee and the memories of life flooded my being.  That day in ancient history was to be the representation of something special.  The next day I would be called upon to say goodbye to a friend. 

There have been many times in my life I have been called upon, to say something profound, to speak poetically, but that day was different, my mind went blank, I could not think.  Six hours later my coffee was cold, and I was still staring at the computer screen.  The question still remained.  How do I say goodbye to a friend?  The messaage was clear, "God has spoken, let the church say amen."

1. Soon we will see our dear, loving Savior,
   Hear the last trumpet sound through the sky;
   Then we will meet those gone on before us,
   Then we shall know and understand why.

The silence was overwhelming, I could not tolerate it, and I could not concentrate.  I could not write. My mind refused to engage.   I tried to project my inner self into the future, because the past and the present seem more than I could endure.  For it is not God’s will that we should suffer, but to exist in a mortal state, we must conform to the laws that govern our existence.  We are victims of our acts and we must suffer the consequences.  To our earthly minds the final frame is a distortion of reality.  It is hard to accept, and we are not satisfied with what we see.  We always expect and desire more. 

When we all sit in silent repose, the veil is drawn and the memories flow.  There are questions that still remain, but the answers can only exist for a fleeting moment within the final frame.   Years have passed since I wrote those words and as a final tribute to the past, I began again to write the closing as the credits roll.  The untimely demise of Larry, the passing of Lucious and others is an indicator that I am mortal and my name shall also find it place within the final frame.

When the book, "Earl Gillespie, Generation, The Root, The Tree and The Branches", was first published the final frame was revived, but the credit had not begun to roll.  On December 11, 2013 Mary Alice Rice Gillespie, the last one standing of the illustrious Gillespie clan passed from this land.  She lived to be 95 years old and in her own words she said, “I am just tired”. 

Farther along we’ll know more about it,

Farther along we’ll understand why;

Cheer up, my brother, live in the sunshine,

We’ll understand it all by and by.

As a final tribute to her life and her legacy, her granddaughter Shemeka Gillespie,and myself led the church in a glorious rendition of:

let the church (pause) say amen God has spoken

God has spoken God has spoken let the church let the church say amen

make this your response amen

to whatever he says amen...