Little Boy Blue

Last weekend was Memorial Day Weekend in the USA.  It has become our tradition to visit Dad at Willamette National Cemetery on Memorial Day.

My family and I visited the wall where Dad's ashes are kept.  The trip to the top of the hill was poignant and moving.  There are acres and acres of flags...all of them on the graves of men and women who fought for country, home and family.  Seeing them deeply touched my heart.

As my family and I sat along the edge of the sidewalk looking out over a sea of flags, I noticed a sweet little boy in blue.  First he sat pensively in the midst of the flags, then he walked up and down between the graves, looking at the flags, flowers and balloons.  He seemed sad, yet the irrepressible joy of childhood still colored  his steps.  Every now and then he would stand still and smile.  And then he would take off running.  He was a delight to watch.

We met many people honoring their loved ones.  There was a feeling of brotherhood and camaraderie between everyone.  It was a beautiful experience.

Have a lovely weekend, dear ones.  May peace and love be yours.

Dearest Daddy

That handsome fellow, second from the left, is my Daddy.  How I wish I could have known him then.  One thing I do know of Dad is he was kind--always very kind to those he loved.  I don't know if this was taken before he went to war...or just afterward.

Dad was only 18 years old when he was drafted into the army. I wish I could have known that young man.  Fighting in the war, his capture and experiences in the concentration camp surely changed him from the boy he was before he left home.  He did not speak much about his horrendous experiences in a Nazi concentration camp, until late in life. 

Dad was captured in the Battle of the Bulge.  He was a prisoner of war at Stalag IX-B in Bad Orb, Germany.  His stories of the death march, being cruelly interrogated, packed with fellow prisoners into a train car like sardines and stacking the dead--being tortured, digging mass graves and starvation were hair-raising.  When he came out of the Nazi prison camp nine months after his capture,  Dad only weighed 95 pounds.

I must add here that though he suffered horrifically at the hands of the Nazis, he spoke warmly of the kindness of the German people themselves.

I always thought this was such a cute picture.  Mumsie working away on her first book years ago.  Isn't she cute?  Her latest book will be coming out this summer in the Quilts of Love Series.  It is called A Stitch and a Prayer.  Dad loved having an author as a wife.  He was, as she says, "the wind beneath her wings." 

Daddy delighted in his grandchildren--here are the twins.  Oh,how  he loved his grandchildren and great grandchildren.  Every one of them were precious to his heart and put a twinkle in his eye.

I have always loved this photo--I managed to snap it as his tiny granddaughter and he walked along the pathway.  As you can see, she holds a treasure trove of fircones.  lol

Dad took us camping every year.  Ah, what times we had.  This is a picture of the silly side of Daddy!

Dad and Mom loved one another and shared life together for more than 54 years.  Then a year ago, today...a deadly stroke put him into the hospital.  Mom spent every waking moment with him at the Veteran's Hospital in Portland.

One moment he was there...

A month later he flew away to heaven.

He was a wonderful Dad.  A good man.  A devoted husband and Father and a grand old soldier.  I'm so blessed to be his daughter and I miss him dreadfully.

Today is a difficult day.  I am going to Mumsie's house to help her with some things--so would appreciate your good thoughts and prayers.

May our mighty Creator bless you, dear ones.

It is Well With My Soul

Daddy is getting ready to slip into heaven any time.  When I was there a few days ago he was having a hard time breathing, before the nurse came in with his medications.  So I sang his favorite song to him, holding his hand.  As I sang It is Well With My Soul, Daddy squeezed my hand.

I want to share this song with you--the words are so beautiful.  It was written by Philip P. Bliss in the mid-1800's.  This man had just lost his entire family at sea.  Philip Bliss knew terrible, unrelenting grief.  Yet he penned these wonderful words:

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll

What ever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, 

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part, but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more'

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, Oh, my soul.

And Lord, hast the day, when my faith shall be sight

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll: 

The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

It is well...with my soul

It is well...with my soul

It is well!  It is well!

With my soul.

God bless you all.  Please be praying for my family at this time.

UPDATE:  Daddy flew away to heaven this evening.  He took a piece of my heart with me.