It’s painful to watch the gradual deterioration of someone who was once vigorous and strong. To see slow tears welling in eyes that once scorned weakness - eyes that previously flashed pride and resolution - evokes a profound sadness.

The hands tremble and that powerful voice has lightened to a less imperious tone. The shoulders that so many leaned on have become stooped and weary. Age, it would seem, treats some of us less kindly than it does others.

Now, he plods where he once danced along on an athletes’ agile feet, descends stairs one step at a time instead of in a light-footed rush. Knees ache, eyes have dimmed, the quarterback can no longer loft his tightly spiraled darts. He can't find his cane or his favorite baseball cap. The parent has become the child.

The one thing left is self-esteem, and one must be careful to offer sympathy without pity; for not even dispassionate, irresistible Time should have the power to rob anyone of that final personal dignity.

© T. P. Woodfork 4/17/2006

Revised 7/21/2007

Time’s Touch Lifted

And so it has ended, sooner than expected, and of course, foreknowledge did not lessen the sorrow of the ending. But there is also, in truth, relief. It was difficult at best to watch the transition as the spirit prepared to vacate the failing refuge that had sheltered it for so many years. The doctor actually said that the physical body was purging itself as it got ready to close down. It was a daunting process to observe.

But now he has risen renewed, bursting with vitality and peace; only the mortal form remains earthbound for those left behind to mourn over. And mourn we will, despite the thoughts of Heavenly peace, the comforting words offered by friends, and the support we try to give each other.  

I remember the Poem ‘High Flight’, and how the author spoke of ‘laughter-silvered wings’*. He was describing a pilot’s delighted exultation as he flew through the heavens, ever higher, and finally reached out to touch the face of God. I think that idea is also appropriate here.

Stanley's heavenly flight must have been much more joyous, though; apparently our mother, Stanley's dear 'Mater', came to accompany him and show the way.

Stanley has gone 'where never lark or even eagle flew'* - he can clearly see, and perhaps touch, the face of God.

Time’s Touch, in the end, has been defeated.

© 19 July 2007 Thurman P. Woodfork

*Excerpts from 'High Flight' by Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee

Poems by Friends