Family Gathering 1958. Philip is in middle row on far right.
My most recent trip back to Illinois was to enjoy my granddaughters, ages 3 months, and 4 years and assist in any way as daughter Emily returned to the workforce after maternity leave. It was amazing how the baby had changed in the almost 2 months I’d been away. She’s demanding when hungry, and very social with lots of smiles and chatter the rest of the time. My son’s four year old also had added many more large words to her sometimes grown up sounding vocabulary and mastered skills with her IPad!
Midway in my visit though came word of the death of my brother, age 63. He was discovered by my other brother and one of my sisters. By all appearances it had happened quickly, either a diabetic coma or a heart attack and occurring not long after he had optimistically bought a new TV and signed up for a new cable contract.
Journalist sister Gayle wrote a wonderful obituary, the link to which I’ve listed. At tragic times such as this, family and friends are what get you through. A small service held in my brother Jim’s home brought memories of happier times as we shared stories with those gathered. Photos, including the one above provided by cousin Kathleen, added more stories.
In looking for words of comfort to use at the service I came across Khahil Gibran’s writing on death and used the following excerpt:
“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand see God unencumbered?
Only when we drink from the river of silence, shall you need to sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb
And when the earth shall claim you limbs, then shall you truly dance!”
May Philip be at peace with a soul that dances.