Completely at a Loss for Words

I simply cannot think of an appropriate title for this email from Grandma. *Sigh.*

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(March 1, 1999)

We thought they would last forever - those old ones who taught us, bent us, sweetened our lives. We thought our questions would always go to them and answers would return in familiar voices.

Too many times we did not appreciate their humor, their words that chided us with lessons. Our differences were great, we thought. Our eyes wandered to other things, our voices mingled with strange ones.

And suddenly, like the vapor mists that lift and fade on sun-struck mountain tops, they were gone. We did not see them go. They slipped past the boundaries to joy and rest without limit.

Now the questions hang in mid-air without voices to answer. And the differences fade like the mists but memory persists with genuine humor, genuine love, and we, in turn, convince our young to "Hear me now, my children . . ."

Peace,
Tawanka
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I should hope we can all heed the lesson here. I pray that we do.

(Confidential to my J's: This was hard for me to post. I know it's even harder for you to read. Bless you.)