This poem’s a tough one. Mom wrote it 19 years ago, still in mourning for the loss of her brother.

Ray.

Sweet baby Ray. This sounds ridiculous as I type it, but we only use that brand of barbecue sauce in our home, in honor of Uncle Ray. Mom was delighted when we served it to her on pulled pork those last years before we lost her, too.

Both lost to Parkinson’s Disease.

Today is World Parkinson’s Day. If you’ve been meaning to make a donation in honor of Ray or Mom (or another loved one), now’s a good time.

Mom adored her baby brother. It pained her terribly to lose him in 2001, when he was just 63. She wrote this poem a few weeks later.

What Words

What words return in Spring
the shad run peepers
I can believe the old man listening
to his heart and sunbeat
speak to him in Spring

We kept close to your bed Ray
in your dying
stroking and whispering
hoping you could hear the stories
old words made purer in continuation

Tell us about our father as a boy

Searching for solace then
lingering in your youth and early manhood
I missed you long before you died
when phone calls and early dinners ended
lovers of mystery we still wanted answers
after your speech and easy movement halted

Two days before the start of Spring you died
the picture of you in your red suspenders
caught us in your smile your courage
there is no word to say goodbye dear Brother
only the sounds of love and memory
rising
~ Joan Vayo, April 12, 2001

Mom‘s phrase “I missed you long before you died” perfectly encapsulates how I feel about her passing, too. The pain is still raw.

But Mom believed in the Resurrection with all her heart and all her soul. And so, as Easter Morning approaches, I know she and Ray are in heaven, celebrating rebirth, free of Parkinson’s at last.

“What Words” © 2001 Joan Vayo. All rights reserved.

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