The Door of Love

The Door of Love

In tribute to my parents. They suffered much as children and yet they thrived. They built a home and family based on love. The biggest symbol of my home is what we call The Door of Love.

You each came into the world

In a cloud of angst.

One bastard born in 1940

The other a late life pregnancy undesired.

You each went to others to be raised

Your lives miniscule without much praise.

And yet you thrived

And you survived.

And though you did not know love or family in conventional form

You carried that seed in your hearts awaiting the right soil to plant it in.

That soil came in the guise of one boy cruising in his car

Offering one girl whose only transport were her feet, a ride.

They talked

They laughed

They shared

They fell in love.

They married

They raised a family

They were joyous for 51 years.

Ill health came knocking at her door.

Wheelchair bound she became.

He fixed and adapted the home

They had built together for her comfort.

He placed a window in their room

In place of an outside door since she needed it no more

And preferred to let the sunshine in

That she could no longer go out to.

Illness came for him.

It was terminal. He would not last.

As his sands of time were draining

He planned completion of things remaining.

He spent his time doing deeds that needed done

before he was gone and was no more.

And of those things, there was a door

To replace the door that was no more.

He realized as he was ailing.

His strengths and capabilities failing

There was no exit from the back of their home

If fire came and she was alone.

With love he was driven

He sledged the wall

The door was his last love act before his fall

And tears she shed as she gave him her last kiss

Knowing how much he loved her

And showing how much he would be missed.

When I see that door

Made by the man who is no more

My tears fall and I look above

And bless that man for his Door of Love.

Our last Christmas as a whole family in 2008. My father had received the all clear on lung cancer in September. We were joyous. I am in black sitting between my parents. The two men on the left are my identical twin brothers. The guy in green is my oldest brother born right behind me. He and I were often mistaken for fraternal twins. The beauty in the front middle with the captivating smile and sparkling eyes is my daughter. Dad confided in me shortly after this photo that though he had been given the all clear, something was still very wrong. Another round of tests indicated there was cancer on his adrenal glands and kidney. And it was growing again in his lungs. He received this news in February around the time of his birthday. Chemo was harsher the second round. It killed his bone marrow and it would not rejuvenate. He was in too poor of health due to COPD to survive any surgeries. We had to watch as the patriarch of our family withered away until he was with us no more. But even though he could do but little at a time, he made The Door of Love in the home that he built by hand from the ground up and sheltered us and formed the center of our family lives. He is missed. But we live on in the house that Leon built.

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