"Flowers grow out of dark moments."
--Corita Kent
-This morning my thoughts were consumed with memories of my dad. He left us in Just of 2000. It seems almost unfathomable that it's been almost 20 years. He left us in the middle of the summer when the warmth and glow of the sun's rays illuminated the days. His passing was so long ago, and yet it was yesterday.
As I was preparing to leave the house this morning, just as the birds were waking, I began thinking of all of the times he shared his humanity with the broken, grief stricken, lonely, impoverished, and desperate souls who seemed to cross his path in a never-ending stream of suffering. Dad had a soft spot for the marginalized and suffering folks
My mind wandered back to the family who lost a teenage son in a car-jacking. The time an elderly neighbor dropped dead at the dinner table in a public restaurant. All of the times he provided Christmas presents to people who otherwise wouldn't have had a Christmas. I recalled the day Dad got home from work, sat down to rest by reading the local newspaper only to find that a family we knew had lost their home and everything they owned in a house fire a couple of nights before. He immediately got up to go check on the family and offer any assistance he could. There were people he let stay at his house for free, visits to the lonely, medicines or other necessities purchased, visits to friends in jail, dinners served, lawns mowed, houses cleaned, and deaths grieved. Always, ALWAYS, there was compassion and empathy. Decades later I still get messages from people telling me about how much Dad meant to them.
Over a year ago an orange cat ran up to me in the street as if we were great friends and he knew me well. He rubbed against my legs and nearly walked under my feet as he followed me into the house as if he lived there. Later I would find out his name is Leo and there is a human down the street who thinks he belongs to her. Yet for over a year my great kitty friend has been visiting me on a regular basis. Sometimes I can tell he's hungry so I feed him tuna or ham. We play with yarn. He sleeps on my chest and purrs the loudest purr I have ever heard.
Leo knows to come to the back door just off my bedroom when he visits. He meows to alert me of his arrival. I let him in. We visit. I pet him. He sleeps or eats or gets into my belongings. When he's ready to leave, Leo goes to the door and gives me the signal and I let him out. This ritual of friendship might happen several times in a week or maybe less. Sometimes I can feel when Leo is about to stop by. He always knows when it's a good time for a kitty hug.
The other night, when the temperature had dropped to 10 degrees, I heard my feline friend at the back door. I had a sense that he was hungry so I opened a can of tuna. He was famished and quickly gobbled down the feast as if he hadn't eaten in a few days, but I know he is better taken care of by his other human. As Leo was eating then sleeping on my bed, I reflected on the fact that I must be an okay person if my kitty friend knows he can show up at my house anytime, when he is tired or hungry or cold, and I will let him and and take care of whatever he needs. Nobody forces him to come. I have no idea why he chose me as his friend, but he did. Some people say that you can tell a lot about a person by how animals react to them.
As I was taking a moment to pat myself on the back for my humanitarian achievements I had an epiphany. This is exactly what it's all about. Every one of us should open our door, poor out our blessings, and lift the spirits of those around us. It is our job to tend to our neighbors in whatever way we can. Just like Dad did for all of those countless people over nearly 7 decades of his life.
When I turn on the news every day I don't always see people reaching out and caring for those in need. I sometimes, no, OFTEN see people demonize the poor, turn their backs on those with a different color skin or religion, or nationality. I see people judge and spread hate and criticize. Yet what I should see, if people lifting others like my dad lifted so many who crossed his path.
I cannot begin to count the numbers of times Dad said that he did something just because it needed to be done. He understood that some people don't have the same advantages as everyone else. He saw those who needed a friend and offered his hand. He walked through the darkest shadows with people because he understand what it was to be engulfed by the demon black dog of depression and despair. He never judged. He befriended the poorest of the poor and those who had vast material blessings.
When my dad was 36 years-old my mother died suddenly from an aneurysm. Dad was left to raise three little girls under the age of four. I don't know how we all made it through that dark tunnel, but we not only survived, some would say we thrived. Despite everything, my sisters had a certain amount of charmed life amidst all of the struggle and hardship.
Dad was born in the middle of the Great Depression. He always said his family was so poor that they had to eat butter instead of margarine because margarine was more expensive. Poor people had to churn their own butter. Then the was came along with the rations. People had money, but they couldn't buy anything because all of the goods were diverted to the war effort. Both of Dad's beloved grandmothers died, one when he was in 5th grade and the other when he was drafted into the Korean War. I don't know all of the burdens Dad carried from everything that happened in his life, but I know he lightened his load every time he helped someone else carry their burdens.
I can't begin to document all of the humanity Dad brought to the world. I am so tired even thinking about it. I guess I'm lazy because I don't feel like I have done a great job of carrying forward Dad's relief efforts. Except there is that one kitty who knows he can come to my back door whenever he is cold or hungry or tired and I'll let him in to tend to his needs. So that counts for something, right?
