Fog
It is like life glazed over, the last 5 days. The death of my father-in-law, Clyde Honeycutt, late Monday night. The trip back to Dry Hollow, Tennessee, the relatives gathering, not enough beds to house them, the tons of fried chicken, and the subaudible tones in the darkness.
Over 325 people came to the visitation, including several friends from Nashville. And the heat has been horrible, in the high nineties all week. There is not much left to say. Words twisted for death die quickly. Memories quickly dissolve. The little kids play their video games. The adults snooze in their chairs. After 3 days everyone goes home, lapse in their memories, and begin their life anew.
I am reading My Losing Season by Pat Conroy and watching the Braves on tv. I will nap soon, between innings, and dream of winter snows. A time to rest.
posted by Dan Phillips @ 12:54 PM
5 comments
5 Comments:
A bit off topic, but I blog-rolled my way here recently and have been enjoying your writing. Today however I decided I really needed to figure out what "Skete" meant. So, I look and it means "small monestary". That seemed a bit strange to me. I looked back over your archives but couldn't find a post explaining the name of your blog. Why is it called "monestatic small monestary"?
Why do I call it Monastic Skete - Notes from the Hermitage? The real key is Skete. In the orthodox faith, on Mt. Athos, the holy mountain of orthodoxy in Greece, Skete's are the name for hermit monks. So for me as I write these musings it is like I am a hermit monk, part of a ficticious monastery, on Mt. Athos -- hence notes from the hermitage.
O God of grace and glory, we remember before You this day
our brother Clyde Honeycutt. We thank you for giving him to his
family and friends, to know and to love as a companion on this earthly pilgrimage. In Your boundless compassion, console those who mourn. Give them faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we all may continue our course on earth, until, by Your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
In order that we not forget a dear departed one, our church secretary is collecting memories about their father for Rick Hoecker's kids to read when they are older. I have been trying to convince my parents for some time to write, record, etc their memories for us (Dad is 72 and Mom is 64). I believe with all my heart that, as long as we continue to remember, no one really dies.
I found this reference interesting:
http://www.silkentiger.com/public/general.html
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