Beverly Parkison aka Lateblooming Designs

The sky is falling,the sky is falling cried Chicken Little as she ran about the barn yard. It hadn’t really. It was just an acorn that had fallen from the big oak tree,or so the story goes. But the sky really did fall on the morning of August 8.

The day started out early, earlier than usual because we had to make a trip to Jackson, sixty-five miles away. . Mr. P had an appointment with his cardiologist. The appointment had been made a year ago and we were looking forward  to the visit. Dr. Lawson is a good man and a great doctor. He really cares for his patients. Two years ago he  had put two stents in Mr. P and after a short period he was able to return to normal work around the farm . Being fit enough to build fences,taking care of the cows, hauling hay, home repairs and loving on our brood of grandchildren was all anyone could ask for.

After breakfast ( we don’t go anywhere without breakfast ) we headed out to the car . I put a card in he mail box, turned around and ….good grief…we have a flat. Mr. P wasn’t to happy. He went back in, got the air compressor while I got the spare tire out. Trying to plug the unit in something went terrible wrong. I  could tell he was having trouble and called out to wait and I would help. It was then that the sky fell and my life shattered into a thousand pieces.

By the time I got to him he had gone down, his head was blue.no pluse, no response.. He was gone! It happened just that fast..I called 911 and after some confusion (we don’t have very good reception out here) the EMT were on their way. It didn’t matter, he was gone and they weren’t going to be able to help.today

Calls to both of my sons went silent,but calls to my daughters in law was answered . Having to tell them “He’s gone” just kinda stuck in my throat. They were all here shortly.

I have learned through the years that scripture tells us to be thankful for all things, but my first response was ” Please don’t do this to me.” directed to Mr. P not to God. Of course he didn’t answer…he was gone.

Why? Why now ? Why this way? My Savior has the answers . I’ll have to wait to hear, but today I have the peace that only God can give.

Miss him? Of course. We had just had our 50th wedding anniversary on June 30. He has always been here,or at least I knew he was coming back. He loved me more than life its self. We have, through the years of raising four sons, the tragic death of our youngest son, adjusting to moving all over  the South chasing rainbows made a lasting love that is  hard to come by in this day and age.

My days are now spent taking care of business and a lot of just business. Every one has been very helpful. After all the flooding there are people in need of clothes.  Getting Mr. P’s closet  empty wasn’t bad at all.  I’ve cleaned the flower beds, check on the cows,started cleaning out the greenhouse and just generally  stay busy. It helps. The nights are another matter. That is when it is so apparent he isn’t on a road trip with my son and he isn’t coming back. The tears fall,but they ( who ever they are ) say that’s a good thing. It will get better….it will.

My mother gets every catalog out there. In the newest BAS Bleu there is a book that looks interesting. It is called  Wait For Me: The irritations and consolations of a long marriage. by Judith Viorst. The introduction reads…So just in case there’s a  place where we go when we die, And just in case you should get there before I do ,I don’t , when it’s my turn, want to spent  eternity looking for you. So let’s decide where we will meet. Let’s decide / Where you’ll wait for wait for me.”

Well, there is a place where we go when we die and if you are a believer in Jesus Christ it is a good place. Mr. p will be waiting for me at the entrance with our son and others we have love here in this life time. I pray we will see you there too.

“All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story or tell a story about them.”  Isak Dineson

 

Comments on: "August 8: The Day the Sky Fell" (3)

  1. Carolyn Stovall said:

    and we look forward to the day we will all be together.

  2. Dearest friend, Beverly.
    I cried with you throughout this difficult post, recognising the pain – not from loosing Mr.Cobs, but from loosing loved ones who have gone before me.

    Mr. P has *gone* nowhere – he’s just in the next room, and the door is open. You can still talk to him and he will hear you. He will be waiting for you. It’s not your time to leave yet, but be assured that he will be waiting.

    My mother and I had a conversation, many years before she actually passed, about how each of us would let the other know that we were ‘still there’. It was a totally private conversation. I told her what I would do to leave signs, for her, if I went before her, and she told me what she would do to leave signs for me. Then we agreed that we’d tell no one else about it so that if and when *it* happened we would be absolutely certain that it could only be us.

    My mother promised me white feathers. And many years after she passed, I still find white feathers in the oddest of places. The biggest white feather I’ve found was tucked under the front wheel of my car when I’d returned to my car after popping into a shop.

    Now this feather was FAR too big for me not to have noticed it when I walked past my car to go into the store. But when I returned, there is was, tucked under the wheel. Thankfully Mr.C was with me and so was my ‘witness’, which I was glad of because, I think had I returned home and told him the story, he may very well have thought I was going crackers. There have been many other times too when I’ve been surprised by feathers.

    For the longest time I’ve said that you can’t ‘die’ for the life of you, and I believe it. We simply let go of the body, because we no longer need it for the place we go onto.

    Mr. P is waiting. He’s going to stick around and wait until it’s your time.

    Love you dearest friend. ~ Cobs. x.

  3. Thank you Cob. I’ll have to tell the story of the Chick-a-Dees’ someday. You will understand how special they are to me. Hang in there until we take our turn. Beverly

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