When my father moved to Bellingham to be with me about ten years ago, he promptly adopted the children of my closest friends as his own grandchildren.  Most of these kids had absent fathers.  He attended their games and cheered them on, he never forgot a birthday, he gave them the gift of his time and love and presence.  As years went on, he attended graduations and weddings.

On Wednesday, two days before he died, he met his first adopted great-grandchild:  eight-day-old Ava Irene, daughter of Jessica Irene, daughter of Nora Irene, daughter of Peggy Irene.

As his eyes lit up in joy to see little Ava, I saw the gates of birth and death swing wide.

4 Responses

  1. Oh Joanna…………………………………….. I wish I had known him, and my heart goes out to all of you. Much love, Cate

  2. I offer you this Native American Prayer:
    I give you this one thought to keep–
    I am with you still–I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow,
    I am the diamond glints on snow,
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
    I am the swift, uplifting rush
    of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not think of me as gone–
    I am with you still– in each new dawn.
    Wishing comfort and peace to you and your family, Joyce.

  3. Sending you and your father good thoughts and prayers. May he find his way, and enjoy the next great journey! Love to you and all your extended family Joanna.

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