Just gone from our sight........

I am standing upon the seashore.

A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" "Gone where?" Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" there are Other eyes watching her coming, and Other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!

And that is dying.

~ Henry Van Dyke

Memorial Jazz Celebration of Wes' Life

Saturday, September 20th

1:00 - 4:00 p.m.

Stockton Elks Lodge

8900 Thonton Road

Stockton, CA 95209

Please contact Terri at terri01-at-sonic-dot-net for more information or to have items added to the program.

Song with no music, as performed by it's writer, David M. Bailey

This was read by Mary Anne at Wes' Jazz Celebration:

The Journey Home

It happened so gradually
his pulling away
Looking toward somewhere
only he could see.
His body was with us, still fighting
So it wasn't easy to notice
his soul traveling onward.

He finally lay down
in the comfy bed that was prepared just for him
In his favorite room
with the sounds and smells of life around him.

Family gathered
and each one by one
sat down beside Daddy
Held his hand
cool rag on his face and neck
rubbed his arm
felt his beard, and the soft chemo-hair
and told him how much we loved him.

We tried to be peaceful,
but in the next room
was the soft murmur of voices
of a family that can't help enjoying each other's presence.
And from the backyard
the sound of the wind, and a doggie yipping at rustling trees.

We knew he was ready
but maybe reluctant to leave with us there
so we decided to go, and were hugging in the dining room
when his soul finally took flight.

I wake up this morning
grief and loss clutching at my heart
so I try to imagine
what Daddy's version of heaven is

Soft morning voices, windchimes on the terrace
the smell of coffee and bacon in the air
walking down the hallway
to the bright sunny kitchen
Where Grampa White sits reading the LA Times
outloud
to anyone who will listen
He walks in the door
and Gramma asks "Did you sleep well"?
Sit down Wes, I''ll fix you some eggs.