Old B&W pix

Here I am trying to look as cool as possible at age 13.

My Aunt Mildred, mom, mom's mother, sister Mary and me posed in our Easter outfits in the front yard. In the background is the 1962 Cadillac that I got to drive when my mom didn't need it.

Here I am again looking uncool with my sister Mary. The vacant lot behind us has long ago been built on.

Dad, sister Mary, mom & grandmother (mom's mother) on a snowy day. The greenhouse dad built to house his azalea cuttings can be seen in the background.

Here are my dad, mom and sister in the living room.

I am looking as uncool as possible in my bow tie.

This is one of the saddest pictures if you understand the background. This is my grandfather, holding my daughter. He had traveled from Nebraska to attend the funeral of his son, my father, who had died of a heart attack while shaking my hand goodbye on my 25th birthday at age 57 .

Ambushed by sorrow

Tonight as I was packing for a trip, I poked around in the closet.
I noticed a little wooden box in the back of an upper shelf










and decided to see what was in it.
The top was brightly decorated.









Then I recalled its origin.
Nancy and I bought it in 1994 during a honeymoon vacation in Jamaica.

I opened it,
and inside
I had placed
the contents
of her wallet

after leukemia took her in 2003.

In the bottom were our wedding rings.









Sorrow had ambushed me.

Tears did not flow,
but their wells were stirred.

These thoughts do not trouble me constantly,
but sometimes,
and when least expected,
sorrow will alight
if only for a moment.

As I age,
I find that life
finds more ways
to remind me
of its brevity.