December 1975
Dear Jim,
I wanted to tell you once over a lunch that I loved you.
The restaurant was crowded and noisy and I felt very awkward
and clumsy with the words. I knew if I tried to tell you why or how
much I would begin to cry; these things are not easy to express,
especially after a lifetime of silent gratitude.
When I married, I know you felt a real emptiness in your
heart because Elena and I were special to you. You loved us more like
the father we lost than an uncle. You ordered pizza when my
friends came over. Slept on a roll-a-way in the front room so I could
have a bedroom. Carried me up the front stairs of the hospital; then
prayed along side of my mother that death would not notice me there,
so ready. For my graduation you bought me new clothes to wear on
my first job; walked me down the aisle on my wedding day; and
beamed with pride as my first born's Godfather. No, Jim, I haven't forgotten.
My memories are filled with your quiet unselfish love of me as
a child, a young girl and now as a woman.
A stone tossed into the water creates circle after circle after circle after circle. I think of how `ordinary' that stone seems and how `simple' the circles are and yet they effect the immensity of the water. Let this be a sign that in simplicity lives the power to call forth from life the beauty of love.Experience the tossing of the stone, a stone that had etched on it the life of a very ordinary man. The stone — do you see it sailing through the air? Ah! did you hear the splash when it hit the water? In the quiet now, let your mind encircle someone who has touched you with a tenderness that speaks of unselfish love. The moment his name is spoken by your heart, you will become that ordinary stone. Tell that someone you love him — and your first circle will form in the water of his life.
If we look at our every word, every action as a stone, and all the world as water then we will become more aware of the tremendous power we possess. All of us, born with the same greatness; for the stone of a king and the stone of a beggar both form circles.
Jim, if you ever feel alone, saddened by who you may
think you've never become, wondering if anyone recognized all the
love within you — look to the waters. Bathe in the beauty before you,
the almost blinding sparks of sun being lured into the circles. Circle
after circle, touching, embracing, gliding one over the other, covering
the entire surface of its water, creating kaleidoscopes of
brilliance stretching out as far as the mind can see.
Then realize on a very `ordinary' day in December, through
the unselfishness of your life, you, Jim, were the first stone.
Love,
Barbara