How Do I Love Thee ? (with apologies to EBB)

How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth
   of thy thousand Lego pieces on the floor
Bionicle parts runneth out of thy room
I can barely close the door

I love thee to my inner being's most quiet need (for privacy)
I  love thee unconditionally though thou test me sorely

I love thee endlessly as much as I wish for the day to end early

I love thee with passion put to use wisely
In my prayers, in my yearnings, and in my hopes
I love thee with a love that puts fear in me
And with all the saints, I love thee with the breath, all the sighs,
Weepings, and laughter- and if God chose to smile
I shall love thee better
When you both sleep at night and wake up even later

(pic art by ZenSue)

Rites of Passage

     There are  moments in life when one stops and realizes that things unfold as they should no matter how much one tries to arrange things as wanted. A wise woman once told me that though they may be made of scraps, there is a pattern in the quilt. And just like the back of  a tapestry that looks like a crisscrossing of threads and colors, when you look at the real picture it actually makes sense and you realize that every thread, every  color is there for a reason. That nothing is an accident, though frayed the tapestry may look at times.

     Fifteen years is a long time to not touch foot in one's country of birth and the place where most of one's growing up is done.  Two boys aged 8 and 10 make their first transpacific flight across the world to touch base with their mother's roots.  Meanwhile, an old man grows weary of the world at 93 and figures the time has come to make that final  journey. And while it is an impossibility to be present at a parent's first breath, being there when he takes his final one is a gift not afforded to all. Seeing family, old friends, classmates-turned- friends and even friends never seen before makes for happy times even in the saddest of circumstance. 
 

     Sew these scraps from the fabric of  life together, tie up these threads of events and what was a planned 3-week vacation turned into 6 weeks of precious time spent with a dying father, reconnecting with family and friends, making new ones and showing my two sons how deep their roots go. Was it a coincidence or serendipity that the trip was sandwiched between Mother's Day and Father's Day? My father, whose birthday was 5/28/2010, took his last breath at 5:28 p.m. on June 12  and a sister half-way across the world wakes up at the exact time. Even though seven siblings and their undeniably supportive spouses couldn't be together all at once, still they were united in ways unimaginable, each with a role to play, a memory to share.   Forty days later finds half of us reunited with  Mom, married to Dad for 55 years. Yet she does not stand alone. And never will. It's a promise made. Thus far, this particular quilt of life, this particular tapestry of memories makes for a warm cocoon for that cold winter of loneliness and longing. I already miss you Daddy...

    Truly, the river flows on its own...

(pic art by ZenSue)

Your Birthday Poem

May your birthday bring you joy

And everything else you've desired as a boy

Per chance you don't get it all

We could still get it at the mall

A gift for you is hard to get

When all your needs are met

And want is just a ploy

To get another toy

The thing I can give you

One perhaps two

Of whatever you desire

And whenever you require

And at the days end

Without meaning to send

You give me the gift of you

And for that -  always I'll love you.

Happy birthday sweetheart.

Hida L. Go - Part Two

 For Sylvia - wife divine of brother one...

And so it happened they flew

Across the ocean blue

To have that second honeymoon

As children two stayed home for seven a noon

The plan was for the victor and wife divine

To ply each other with love and wine
Perhaps take a tumble or two

While everybody else talked of what to do

But much to her surprise

Up before the sunrise

Out of the suitcase the other woman steps out shimmering

Proud neck and amber skin still glistening

Looking for the other brothers two

The only reason she flew across the ocean blue

For she figured if  brothers two were fun
Four would be twice it - under the sun !

Kampaiii!