My dad is doing quite well. At age 93, his mind remains sharp, his spirit is strong, he lives in his own home and still drives his car to visit his girlfriend who lives 45 miles away. However, his health is declining steadily, as is his energy level and he's at peace with the fact that his time is drawing nearer. So last month, when he declared wistfully over dinner that he "sure would like to go to the mountains and see the aspen trees turning gold one last time," Zet and I felt it was important to honor his wish.
GOLDEN DANCERS
So, here we are, sitting alongside a gurgling mountain stream in the Jemez Mountains in the heart of New Mexico, drinking in the stunning, sun-drenched view of the golden-hued aspens splashed across the valley. It's always a pleasure to see any variety of trees change colors in the fall, but there's something particularly hypnotic about the way that the dazzling yellow aspens perform their distinctive dance at high altitudes, shimmering in the crisp autumn breeze while murmuring their seasonal song of surrender to the rhythm of changing seasons. It's a brief, but glorious blaze of beauty; soon these bright, golden leaves will flutter to the ground and slowly turn into fertilizer for next year's foliage.
GOLDEN VIEWS
It's painful to watch Dad struggle to maintain his balance, clinging to his stroller as he takes a few doddering steps toward the nearest stand of aspens, as if wanting to immerse himself more fully in their golden glow, one last time. He, too, appears to be shimmering in the breeze, responding to the pull of gravity and the changing seasons of his life. Yet, while his shoulders may be stooped, and his gait has slowed considerably in recent months, his gaze remains clear, reflecting the fact that he is a man of deep faith with an abiding trust in the Divine, which helps make him unafraid of what lies ahead.
A thin stream of salty tears comes trickling down my cheek as I watch him, but I choose to remember that I, too, have faith. Even when it feels frail and faltering, that faith remains alive and willing to welcome whatever may come. And this sadness I'm feeling? Whether it is for Dad or for me -- or for those who are suffering in Las Vegas, Puerto Rico, the GulfaCoast nd all the other newsmaking places where logic, love and loss are colliding and creating chaos - this sadness, too, is a gift, waiting to be faced and embraced. And now is as good a time as any...
GOLDEN TOO
All too soon, it's time for us to get back in the car, drive down the mountain, and head for home. Watching Dad's face as we pass through the last of the aspens, I remember once again the words of the ancient promise: "All is well, and all shall be well... today, tomorrow and always." It may be just a small comfort, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
In peace,
Rudi Harst
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