3:43am December 27, 2014

Getting holiday presents from my father…

…I know he picked them out long before the holidays, knowing full well he wouldn’t make it to December.

(And I’m not just saying ‘the holidays’ to be PC or something… my parents celebrate Christmas, my brother doesn’t celebrate anything, I celebrate the solstice, and I’m not sure of my other brother.  Holidays seems the safest word to include all of us.)

It reminds me again of those Kathy Mattea lyrics:

These apple trees on the mountainside
He planted the seeds just before he died
I guess he knew that he’d never see
The red fruit hanging from the tree
But he planted the seeds for his children and me

High on the ridge above the farm
I think of my people that have gone on
Like a tree that grows in the mountain ground
The storms of life have cut them down
But the new wood springs from the roots in the ground

Gone, gonna rise again

That sense of doing something you know you’ll never see the results of, because doing it is an act of love and still matters immensely to the people you love and care about.  I only hope that I can go out as well as he did.

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