ricknrok Richard E James Ed. D, Ph. D

This is a true story about my family their spiritual traditions and family beliefs retold in one Ode Poem that you can read in under ten minutes.

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The Fall and Rise of a Family

In the stillness of a Northern Michigan night,

A solitary man sits by a fire's warm light.

His weary soul, burdened with the weight of years,

Reflects on life's accomplishments, regrets, and fears.

The crackling of the wood, a symphony in the air,

The dancing flames, a mesmerizing affair.

Bare trees stand tall, their branches still asleep,

Unawakened by winter's slumber so deep.

As he sits, memories of family fill his mind,
Those who have departed, leaving him behind.

His great grandfather Luigi, from Italy's distant shore,

Passed away at sixty-two, leaving him feeling emotionally sore.

His grandfather Lawrence, aged sixty-three,

Fell in the yard after raking leaves unseen.

And his uncle, bearing the same name,

At sixty-two, climbed his basement steps, never the same.

His grandmother Beatrice, a pillar of strength,

Lived to eighty-two, twenty years her own son's life length,

Larry’s was the shorter, taken by fate's cruel hand,

Leaving her heartbroken, alone to withstand.

Sitting broken and defeated on his deck,

He recalls the stories his grandmother would speck.

Of loved ones returning from the other side,

To ease the pain of those left behind.

Rosella, his grandmother's sister, appeared one night,

Sitting on the edge of her bed, a comforting sight.

"I am okay, Beatrice," Rosella softly said,

"In a different place, free from pain and dread."

Their parents were there, she reassured,

And someday they would all be together, secured.

She lingered briefly, to share the family's plea,

To stay strong, find peace, and let their spirits be free.

These encounters were not mere tales of lore,

But a bond between the living and those gone before.

Through the veil of death, they reached out,

Sending messages of hope, erasing doubt.

This family gift, passed down through the years,

Connected them all, in joy and tears.

The Wests, a close-knit family, united as one,

Even in death, their bond could not be undone.

The man, as a child, witnessed it all,
The ringing of phones, the voices on the calls.

He couldn't comprehend the depth of it then,

But now, he understands, and his heart does mend.

Raised in a culture of spirits and belief,

Huron Indian, fortune tellers, offering relief.

His grandmother's people, connected beyond,

Time and space, to a realm so fond.

But when his grandmother passed away,
No messages came, no spirits did stay.

The man felt the loss, the absence of hope,

His loved ones gone, struggling to cope.

His relationship with his mother, strained at the end,

He tried his best, but time he couldn't bend.

She spoke of going home, visits from the departed,

Messages for the man, heavy-hearted.

In his search for meaning, he became a healer,

A psychologist, a philosopher, and sometimes revealer.

But despite his accomplishments, his heart yearned,

For the missing pieces, the lessons unlearned.

Now, he finds himself once more by the fire's glow,

Feeling sorrowful, forlorn, with nowhere to go.

No visitations, no messages of hope,

Only the realization that life's end is a slope.

He ponders the futility of chasing eternity's dream,

The fleeting nature of accomplishments, it would seem.

In the end, he concludes, we are but an illusion,

Our existence is only a hopeful delusion.

Yet, in this tale, there is a glimmer of light,

A message received on a somber night.

His brother's words, a spark of hope,

A glimpse of love from beyond life's scope.

Did it truly happen, he cannot be sure,

But it brought his brother solace, that much is sure.

In the end, it is his brother's well-being that matters,

And in that, he finds the strength not to shatter.

So, when faced with the choice of what to believe,

In the material world or a divine reprieve,

He asks, which story will you choose,

To find solace, hope, and never lose?

Update to the story,

I forgot to tell you; I saw mom last night. I can’t remember it 100%, but I remember her saying that she loved me, or don’t worry I love you. Mom was mom, and we may have had our little differences occasionally, and the way she was looking at me as she was dying has been really bugging me. I wasn’t the perfect son by far! But mom was always there. I miss mom, and will forever, but I feel a little bit better.

The above message was received by me on 04/18/2023 from my younger brother around 10:00 AM. Did it truly happen? I do not know. What I do know is it provided hope and inspiration for him, and in the end, I guess my brother's well-being is all that matters.

The man's heart fills with both doubt and presage.

Did his brother truly witness their mother's love?

Or was it a figment, a trick from above?

The fire crackles, casting shadows on his face,

And he delves deeper into this ethereal chase.

The years of loss and longing weigh heavy on his soul,

Leaving him wondering what truly makes him whole.

He remembers his mother's final days,

The strained relationship, the unspoken ways.

He had tried his best to ease her pain,

But his efforts seemed futile, all in vain.

She spoke of going home, of visits from the deceased,

And he listened, his heart yearning for inner peace.

But doubts clouded his mind, skepticism took hold,

Could these messages be real, or just stories untold?

In his youth, he dismissed these tales as superstition,

A product of a family's spiritual tradition.

But now, as he sits alone by the fire's glow,

He questions the truths he once thought he did know.

The man, despite his accomplishments and success,

Feels a void within, a deep emptiness.

He longs for answers, for a connection to the divine,

To find solace, purpose, and a sense of intertwine.

The man, despite his accomplishments and success,

Feels a void within, a deep emptiness.

He longs for answers, for a connection to the divine,

To find solace, purpose, and a sense of intertwine.

He ponders the choices that lay before him,

The material world or a spiritual realm so dim.

Which story will he choose to believe,

To find solace and hope, his heart to relieve?

The fire crackles, casting a warm, flickering light,

As the man drifts into the depths of the night.

He contemplates the fleeting nature of existence,

The transient nature of life's persistence.

In his search for meaning, he became a healer,

Helping others navigate life's twists and twirls.

But deep within, he still feels a yearning,

For the missing pieces, the lessons worth learning.

As he stares into the depths of the dancing flames,

He wonders if life's purpose is merely games.

Do our accomplishments hold any true worth,

Or are they just illusions, fleeting moments on Earth?

The man's mind wanders, lost in contemplation,

As the fire's warmth provides a gentle consolation.

He realizes that the answers may never be clear,

But the journey of seeking is what we hold dear.

In the end, it is not the material or the divine,

But the connections we forge that truly define.

The love, the memories, the bonds that we share,

Are what give life meaning, beyond what is rare.

And so, the man sits by the fire's warm embrace,

Embracing the uncertainties, finding solace and grace.

For in the depths of his soul, he knows it to be true,

That the stories we believe shape our lives through and through.

Whether it be the material or the divine,

The choice is ours, to intertwine.

To find hope, inspiration, and peace,

And in our hearts, a sense of release.

As the fire dwindles, casting a gentle glow,

The man rises, his spirit awakened, aglow.

He walks away, carrying with him the flame,

To share the stories that whisper each name.

For in the end, it is the stories we tell,

That connect us all, in heaven and hell.

So, as his footsteps fade into the night,

He leaves behind a legacy, woven in light.

2024년 2월 26일 3:33 오전 0 신고하기 삽입됨 스토리 팔로우하기

저자 소개

Richard E James Ed. D, Ph. D Greetings, I am a seminary graduate, Ph. D Psychologist and Doctorate of philosophy. I enjoy studying world religions, travel and the search for life’s meaning. I personally believe that truth does not lie in what the world tells us to believe but rather in what it shows us through our experiences.

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