Come Up Higher . . . and Dad's Miracle Bouquet
- Colleen Akiko
- 6 days ago
- 2 min read
It's been a heavy few weeks since I've posted on the WeBeTheChange blog. On October 21st my stepmom, Anne, passed abruptly. 15 days later, my dad peacefully followed. In a daze of shock and grief, we made two trips to their home in Southern Illinois, tending to the many pieces left behind by their unexpected departures. We recently drove our vintage camper from their land of lush fields and forests back to our home beneath newly white desert mountain peaks.
We'd had a sweet, traditional memorial service for Anne in late October. Friends and family--including Dad, came out on a rainy day to honor the passionate artist and animal lover she was.
Dad, on the other hand, had become reclusive in his latter years. Since those who endeared him are spread across the country, we're now preparing a Zoom gathering to celebrate his life--including some concert footage from his earlier years.
My father, Richard "Dick" Strawn, was a contemplative man of the mountains. This contrasted with the public life-long maestro who, from many stages, poured hold-your-breath beauty from his violin fingers into listening hearts. Though understated socially, he was brilliant musically--and warmly regarded by his students and peers.
For years, I ritually called Dad on the phone when walking in our nearby mountains. And now, with other beloved mountain men in my family who've also passed, he calls me as I walk through the sagebrush.
He reminds me to lift my eyes, to open my heart, to come up higher.
Together we breathe the beauty of life unending.
Forever and always, love you, Dad.
When I opened our greenhouse for the first time in a month, I was surprised by dazzling nasturtiums that had spread out to greet me from most of the greenhouse. They beamed pure joy!
Nasturtiums were my Grandma's (Dad's mom), favorite flowers. Two years ago I planted a handful of Nasturtiums in her honor. They bloomed heartily. Then after clearing the planting bed for winter, I saw a broken stalk left on the soil. So I put a little rock on it in case it wanted to root somehow. It did--big time!
Hence, the profuse love blossoms. Beholding them, I felt my beloved Grandma's delight in welcoming her son back home. And there was Dad, too, nodding a smile.
Grandma was also a violinist, and her instrument now beckons from my closet.
Full life circle. One in the all. All in the One.
A surprise bouquet of joy in this tender time.
--Colleen Akiko
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