A Temple of the Holy Spirit

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Daniel & Catherine ready for Confirmation I had the privilege of witnessing my son and daughter receive the Sacrament of Confirmation this past Tuesday at the Basilica of Our Lady of the Annunciation in Lancaster, OH. It was a wonderful Mass with a full choir, trumpets, and all the rest. During his remarks, Bishop Earl K. Fernandes mentioned that we too, like the Basilica, are temples of the Lord. It caused me to reflect on this idea. Although I've mostly seen only pictures of the great cathedrals and basilicas in the world, I have seen some amazing churches even in our own diocese. These structures are a testament to the Church's love for God (read the entire Church - Militant, Suffering, Triumphant). They represent great skill, sacrifice, and passion for Our Lord and often times His Mother.  Yet the words of Christ always echo in my mind when contemplating the beauty that surrounds me in those places; “ Do you see these great buildings? There will not be one stone left u
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My Grandfather

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Dad, Me holding Anthony, Grandpa Jake (2001)
Tears fall down,
Ancient cheeks,
The oak bends,
Kissing the dew, cold 

Lost without her,
Forgetful,
Forgets she's gone,
Forgets what to put on.

Trapped in silence,
80 years come and gone,
Memories fade, blend,
Head shakes with a smile.

The children,
They make him smile,
His silent world,
Bright for a while.

Head in hands,
He remembers,
Children, wife, kiss,
He cries,
"She's a hard one to miss" 

This is a poem about my beloved grandfather. The first part is from my memory of him at my grandmother's funeral a couple months ago. He is the oak and she the dew. This man was so strong in my life. To see him bend over the casket one last time and his her cold lips was more than I could bear.

The second part is about the sadness that comes with someone who has Alzheimer's. There is also some humor, respectfully. If there wasn't we would all be miserable.

The third part deals with the fact that he is practically deaf from old age and years around heavy machinery and farm equipment before hearing protection. I can only image what it is like to be trapped in the silence of his mind with all of those memories floating about.

Part four deals with how he still lights up when he is around the boys and still plays and rough-houses with them. In a way, it pulls him out of that silent world if only for a minute and brings him joy.

The last part comes from a memory a visit we had with him after the funeral. He laughed and played with the boys but then he remembered she was gone. He wiped his eyes and said, "she's a hard one to miss." She is grandpa, she is.

My new book of poetry, The Last Dragon and Other Poems is available now.
 
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