Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star One clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound or foam, When that which drew from out of the boundless deep. Turns again home
. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. When Muhammad Ali died, his memorial service was long and the celebrities and dignitaries lined up to say something about the man "who floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee." Princess Diana had the royal procession, and Ronald Reagan had the Presidential funeral parade that featured the riderless horse with the backwards boots in the stirrups. This is what ensues when a celebrity, princess or politician dies, but what about those who pass without the fanfare. Today, Tripp (Robert Owen the third), as he was called, was the first of my classmates (from the great old school of St. Genevieve/ Gibbons Hall in Asheville, NC, passed away due to the ravages of hated cancer, complicated by ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease.) There will be no parade. Will Smith will not be a pall bearer, but the world is a little less colorful without our friend. For who sings the praises of a life lived day to day, as most of us do? That job is left to us who remain behind to celebrate ordinary lives of extraordinary individuals. We can recall with laughter how he loved to do things he really shouldn't have. Like the time he put noise poppers in his favorite teacher's, (Mr. Olsen's) erasers. It made him so mad, and even madder as he sat in his chair where Tripp had placed more poppers under each leg. Jo, who related a tale of how Tripp shot her with his BB gun and knocked her off her bike one afternoon after they had planned a party for the next weekend together, likes to remind us of the brilliant mind Tripp possessed and what a great loss it is. One of the best things that has happened concerning Tripp for me was his surprise birthday party last year. He made sure that I was found and invited. (I had been out of touch for 36 years.) I told him we had to get together every 36 years whether we needed to or not. It has meant a great deal to me that I was returned home through his actions, (shout out to Michelle M. too,) and I was able to be around through his short, difficult journey home. All that is left is to say thank you. Thank you to his family for their love and faithfulness. Thank you for the professional caregivers who contributed to his health. Thank you for the rallying of the SG/GH classmates to encourage him as much as we were able from the places we have scattered to build our adult lives. Thank you to Facebook for allowing us ongoing group discussion on the situation. Most of all, thank you Tripp for being you, giving us good memories and sharing your brilliant mind, mischief and history with us all. I am sure heaven is happy to have you with them today and there is a homecoming party going on for you. Say hello to your Grandfather, Dr. Robert Owen. Thank him for saving my Dad's life when he had appendicitis as a boy, so I can write this tribute to you today. He is now with his dog in the above picture. Throw the ball for him Tripp!!!!

1 comment:

  1. Read this passage from Psalms today and was delighted as to how it spoke to Tripp's passing and acceptance of Christ.

    Psalms 139: 3-8 AMP

    " you are sift and search out my path and my lying down. You are acquainted with my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue still unutterable but, behold, O Lord, You know it altogether. You have beset me and shut me in - behind and before, and You have laid Your hand upon me. Your infinite knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high above me. I cannot reach it. Where could I go from Your spirit? Or where could I flee from Your presence? If I ascend up into Heaven, You are there: If I make my bed in the place of the dead, behold, You are there.