"My dad died on Thanksgiving day, in 82'," the note says, a note from a childhood friend I haven't seen in years, a man with the most perfectly distinctive Dutch name on Ellis Island--Klompenhower (wooden shoe maker). "The preacher had said that it was very appropriate that it was on that day cause dad's whole life was a life of thanksgiving to our Lord."
My friend's mom and dad are long gone. They come back to me from a half century ago, but not all that clearly. But the truth is, the only way I remember his father is smiling--only with a smile.
"I just remember Wayne Westerbeek coming over to me after the service and graveside ceremony," this old friend says in an e-mail two nights ago. "He said to me that in 9 yrs working with my dad, he never saw my dad have a bad day."
Seems impossible, doesn't it? I'm not questioning the assessment or the eulogy or my friend's integrity, it's just hard to believe.
The note goes on, "I thought about that, and I couldn't ever remember one either."
That's the man's own son talking--not a one bad day, not one, if you can believe it.
"My father‑in‑law is the same way," he says. "Always in a good mood."
And I'm thinking this old friend of mine has to be pulling my leg.
"I'm not as good," he says, "but working on it."
His mother is gone too, of course. Maybe if she wasn't, she'd shake her head and say her son thinks he knows it all but really doesn't. Then again, maybe she'd just nod and smile approvingly.
Hard as it is to believe, and whether or not it's true, somehow I'm buying it. It's a testimony that I haven't quite been able to shake out of my system--never a bad day. Really hard to believe. Always smiling?--give me a break, but somehow I'm thinking it's true.
What a witness. What a blessing. How do people do that?
My friend's mom and dad are long gone. They come back to me from a half century ago, but not all that clearly. But the truth is, the only way I remember his father is smiling--only with a smile.
"I just remember Wayne Westerbeek coming over to me after the service and graveside ceremony," this old friend says in an e-mail two nights ago. "He said to me that in 9 yrs working with my dad, he never saw my dad have a bad day."
Seems impossible, doesn't it? I'm not questioning the assessment or the eulogy or my friend's integrity, it's just hard to believe.
The note goes on, "I thought about that, and I couldn't ever remember one either."
That's the man's own son talking--not a one bad day, not one, if you can believe it.
"My father‑in‑law is the same way," he says. "Always in a good mood."
And I'm thinking this old friend of mine has to be pulling my leg.
"I'm not as good," he says, "but working on it."
His mother is gone too, of course. Maybe if she wasn't, she'd shake her head and say her son thinks he knows it all but really doesn't. Then again, maybe she'd just nod and smile approvingly.
Hard as it is to believe, and whether or not it's true, somehow I'm buying it. It's a testimony that I haven't quite been able to shake out of my system--never a bad day. Really hard to believe. Always smiling?--give me a break, but somehow I'm thinking it's true.
What a witness. What a blessing. How do people do that?
Reason enough for morning thanks.
1 comment:
Good thoughts and a stunning photo, too.
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