That's What I'm Here to Do
Catch the wind and sing for you...
Your voice is in the sea a sundry symphony Mighty blue wash over me Thunderous sound my spade goes round and round... Childhood spanned a whimsical hand Castles dripped from sand Fish and chips near the pier England hold us dear in this new frontier Yet I remember them the beach in Southend as mum and dad penned the familiar footprint of a friend so far away from home my mind would roam to the family we were making never forsaking wind of my aching God quelch our tears goodbyes o'er the years I'll sing for you far or near that's what I'm here to do catch the wind and sing for you.
As I was looking through my unpublished writings this week, I found this poem, written through the music. The ache of living far away from the people we love. The newness and wonder of landing our feet on a different sand — making new friends/family, while missing those left behind. The joy of familiarity in the wind and food by the seaside. The feltness of loss crashing down in the waves where all I can do in the quiet distance is sing my soul. I thought there was something tender about it that speaks to our grief right now.
This week my little brother lost another brother, a best friend. Gone too soon to vicious cancer. A childhood cancer survivor. Erik passed the same day as actor Val Kilmer. This Friday is the memorial of my mum’s brother Brian, in England, our only uncle. And in June we will ride the ski lift to the top of Mount Baldy, California, to memorialize my husband’s brother Mike, in his favorite place, where he taught his children and grandchildren to ski. He passed the end of January. As memorials approach, they will be packed with brothers, friends, family. Because family is more than family. It’s the family we make and the family we keep close, even when distance keeps us apart.
We know the fleeting breath of life as it lives within us, around us and over our days. May we never take it for granted and find a way to stop and sing Love to their heart before they pass over this earth. To this brotherhood that left their mark in the souls of many. May we catch the wind of uncertainty and love while we can.
All brothers. From the top, Erik, Uncle Brian and Mike (last image: Mike is holding onto John after riding in a crop duster, which landed upside-down, on the family farm in Iowa - notice the cows looking on)
Donovan singing for Bob Dylan (above)
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.”
- Proverbs 17:17
"Good friends are hard to find, harder to leave, impossible to forget."
Family can be your best friends & your best friends are always considered family. Thank you for this my sweet sister ❤❤❤ We've all had a lot to process lately & your inspiration of words always helps the heart to heal.
Oh no, I am sorry to hear about your little brother's close friend and his brother. And the wind went out of my spiritual sails to listen to the news about Val Kilmer, who had been suffering from cancer for several years.
What a beautiful tribute to Mike. Saying goodbye to him at the top of the mountain, at a place he spent so much time bonding with his kids. And Brian? I am sure the hearts of every single one of your family aches for his presence. But in the larger clock of God’s time, we will meet for eternity. That's His promise.
Sending you much love and empathy to you, Deborah, and your families. ✨🙏💜