A Study in Contrasts

The fall leaves were in full color in the days before my father died.  I remember driving from St. Peter to Minneapolis day after day overwhelmed with sadness, yet filled with awe at the beauty of the Minnesota river valley showing off its finest plumage.  I remember thinking that it seemed fitting that his life would come to an end during the brightly colored fading days of autumn.  I can still hear him singing in the kitchen with his rich yet untrained voice, “The falling leaves drift by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold.” 

Today is the tenth anniversary of the day he died.  There is a wonderful prayer from the Reform Jewish Prayer book, Gates of Prayer, called “For as long as we live, they too will live, For they are now a part of us, as we remember them.”


At the rising sun and at its going down we remember them.


At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter we remember them.


At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring we remember them.


At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer we remember them.


At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn we remember them.


At the beginning of the year and when it ends we remember them.


As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us.

 As we remember them.

 When we are weary and in need of strength we remember them.


When we are lost and sick at heart we remember them.


When we have decisions that are difficult to make we remember them.


When we have joy we crave to share we remember them.


When we have achievements that are based on theirs we remember them. 


For as long as we live, they too will live,


For they are now a part of us, as we remember them.

In keeping with that thought I could add, when I look in the mirror, and see a face that looks so much like his, I remember him.

We leave in four days and there is so much to do.  But today, in the spaces between the busyness, I want to enjoy the beautiful colors and remember my dad.