F is for Final Curtain

Letter of the Day:  F

F is for the Final Curtain for our feline friend Matilda.

Here she is with her best boy, Zach.

As I mentioned earlier this week, Matilda hadn't been eating.  At first we thought it was her teeth, so the vet did a dental extraction. She still didn't eat much.  I brought her in.  We tried a few more things, but still she seemed disinterested in food.  On Tuesday, the vet took an x-ray and diagnosed cancer. I sat with her on my lap and let the tears fall.  We all said our last good bye on Wednesday morning.  Charlie wanted to play one last song for her on the piano.  Matilda loved to sit on the bench when my students came for lessons, or when I played.  (See my post on Pet Therapy.) Charlie played, What a Wonderful World.

Zach and I took her to the vet and held her until the last.  He was so sad, he couldn't even go to school.  I went to my noon workout at the Y.  When I came home, he had engraved the clay paw print disk that the vet made for us.

When a show has finished it's run, the last performance has "The Final Curtain Call."  The actors linger a bit longer on stage, shed extra tears, and give each other tender hugs.  As soon as they leave the stage, they will strike the set, and the performances will be but a sweet memory, lingering in the clouds, and yet the experience was worth the brief moment that it existed.  The orchestra has stopped playing the music, but the song lingers on.

Journaling Prompt:  What are some precious momentos that you keep?

Scout Salute

Quote of the Day:  A conversation with my boys.
Me:  What do you remember best about the Memorial Day ceremony?
Eric (left):  The Star Spangled Banner
Charlie (right):  The National Anthem
And, it was captured on Steve Kohl's camera and printed on the front page of our local newspaper, The Brainerd Dispatch.  (Zach is standing next to me, behind the twins and their scout mate Aaron.)

Some of the scouts marched in the parade.  My boys handed out programs at the Memorial Day service at the cemetery.

They did their jobs with patriotic spirit and observed the importance of this day.

Thank you to the men and women who served and sacrificed.  Thank you to their loved ones who waited and worried.  Thank you for living and giving beyond yourselves.

When I was in the 7th grade, I read In Flanders Field for the Memorial Day service in my home town.  The author of that poem, Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD, Canadian Army, wrote this poem in the spring of 1915 after spending 17 days treating injured men.  He never intended to publish it.  He even threw it away, but it was retrieved by his comrades and sent to a newspaper. The first paper rejected it, but it was published in Punch, and is still read today.

In Flanders Field

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Journaling Prompt:  Write about someone you are remembering, or about people you know and love who have served their country.