Weeping Willows

The Willow it Weeps...

2011-06-29T07:18:00.000-07:00

On a hill near a stream, they silently weep...
Like guardians of gates, their vigil they keep.

The wind in the willows, their leaves they do sway...
As a reminder of sorrow, with each passing day.

Planted by hands and hearts that do ache...
Planted by brothers for their dear sister's sake.

The willow it weeps, And so do we,
For now there are two...
Where once there were three.

In memory of my sister, Kristi Rosage Bishop,
by Bernie Rosage, Jr., Copyright 2001

where the wisteria booms...

2011-06-29T07:16:00.001-07:00

there is a place

my steps and mind retrace

where the wisteria blooms

weeping and joy encompass each bloom

cascading memories of one gone to soon

where the wisteria blooms

the beauty, the fragrance remind me of you

spring gives way to summer... the splendor is through

where the wisteria blooms

autumn... winter... the loveliness concealed

alas spring is nigh... hope is revealed

where the wisteria blooms

a sign of comfort from heaven above

warms my broken-heart with each purple bud

where the wisteria blooms

poem by Bernie Rosage, Jr.,

written September 14, 1998,

in memory of my baby sister, Kristi.

The Grass Still Grows...

2011-06-29T07:12:00.000-07:00

It’s only been days,
but the grass still grows.
I wonder if it knows…

The grass still grows,
The water still flows,
The cars still go,
The pendulum moves to and fro.
Surely they know?

From a bench I watch the snow,
And wonder does it know.
The people who walk in the snow,
Surely they must know.
Only imbeciles walk in the snow.
What’s so important that they must go?
If only they would look at me they would know.

Still…
Can’t they be still?
I curse this perpetual motion.
It’s like a swaying ocean
Tossing me about…
I begin to shout!
But no one hears me.

Still…
Grass grows,
People walk,
And I see red.
Don’t they know my sister’s dead?

March breezes begin to blow.
April rains gently flow.
Spring forth color from flowers show.
I wonder do they know.

Still…
Grass grows,
People walk,
And I see red.
Don’t they know my sister’s dead?

The grass still grows,
The water still flows,
The cars still go,
The pendulum moves to and fro.
How was I to know?

Still…
They can’t be still.
How would I heal…
If all remained still.

Poem by Bernie Rosage Jr.
Copyright 2011
6-29-2011

Dreams Do Come True...

2011-06-28T07:37:00.000-07:00

"Dreams Do Come True"
by Bernie Rosage Jr.

Dreams have intrigued us since the beginning of time. Many universities have spent millions of dollars on the study of dreams, their patterns and meanings. It has been proven that we dream every night. Seldom do we realize this or remember them. We can only speculate on their symbolism and meanings. No matter, we must concede they exist and for a reason ... whatever, the reason may be.

Visions and dreams were experienced by many people in the Bible. Joseph gained favor with Pharaoh by interpreting his dreams. The same for Daniel with Nebuchadnezzar. When Joseph wanted to separate from Mary secretly because she was pregnant, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for that which has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bear a son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for it is He who will save His people from their sins." (Matthew 1:19-21) Even as Jesus was brought before Pilate on the day he was crucified, Pilate's wife sent for him, saying, "Have nothing to do with this righteous Man; for last night I suffered greatly in a dream because of Him." (Matthew 27:19)

Since my sister's death, I haven't dreamt that much ... or at least, I haven't realized it. Grief has exhausted me and my sleep patterns have been somewhat disturbed. I have been impatiently waiting for a comforting dream of my dear sister. You know the type; she's happily in Heaven, walking on streets of gold with God .... or, she visits me saying, "Hey brother, I'm fine, it's beautiful here and you are going to love it, I'll watch over you till you get here, I love you and I'll meet you at the gate when it's your time." Well, those dreams haven't been dreamt yet ... anyway, not by me. I guess I should be thankful that I'm not having nightmares. But, I would settle for a month of nightmares for just one glimpse of her sweet face, and to hear her voice in one of those dreams that seem so real it is hard to tell where reality stops or starts. Dear reader, have you ever had a dream that seemed that real? We all have. That's the kind I need. I can't help but think that when we die, this life will seem like a dream and we will awaken to the awesome things that await us. God himself, promised us that, if we only believe.

God heard my prayer and blessed me with such a dream. Not like one I mentioned, but one that has had a definite impact on me. One I am forever grateful to Him for. He surely works in mysterious ways; he molds us, instructs us, and comforts us in ways foreign to us ... but not Him.

Dear reader, picture a family shattered by the unexpected loss of one of it's dearest members. It was an accident that took her from us suddenly, while she was in the prime of life. The nature of the accident is unimportant, the result would be the same. The method of the loss is irrelevant to the LOSS. We miss her dearly and would give anything to have her with us still ... if only we could go back in time. Unfortunately a time machine is only the figment of H.G. Well's mind and the hope of ours. But I have learned that with God, all things are possible! Here's my dream .... minus names and places so as not to limit this dream as just mine. This dream is for anyone who needs a dream.

My dream carries me back in time to the day before my sister's tragic death. Our whole family is present; husband, mom, dad, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephew. We are traveling together to the home of my sister. Each one us, with the exception of my sister, knows what tomorrow will bring. We are dreadfully sad but happy at the same time for being given this special time. We are careful not to show any emotion that might affect my sister. We want her to be as full of life as we remember her. On the trip, we are closer than we can ever remember ... we share memories, jokes, and heartfelt love with one another. The things that you would do and say if you knew that you would never be with that person again. When we arrive at her home, each one of us, somehow, manage to spend special alone time with her. As each family member comes out of her room and another goes in, we experience sadness and joy at the same time. Tears flow freely but are quickly wiped dry as she comes out only to be escorted back to her room by another family member. When it comes to my turn I think to myself, "What will I say?" We spend time together that is beyond description. When it is time for me to leave, I tell her how much I love her and ask a favor of her. "Dear sister, you are so special to me, will you please give me some keepsake from you that I may treasure always?" Her response and reply will forever be imprinted on my mind. She simply put her arms around me, squeezed me with a tight hug, looked into my eyes and said, "I love you and that is the most valued treasure I can give you." With that I awoke from my dream. How many people get a chance to go back in time and receive such a gift? A gift that clearly reveals the true value of people and the importance of the PRESENT moment. Some may say it was only a dream and that it doesn't mean anything. You can rest assured that Joseph and I won't settle for that reply!

In reality we can never go back, so we must lean into the wind and press forward through this storm. God may raise His hand and calm this storm ... He may not. If He doesn't, I know that He will place His hand on us and calm us. So with His help we go forward ... pressing ever closer to the day when we will be with Him and our beloved again ... where He will personally wipe away our tears forever!

With all my Love,
A Grateful Brother

Blooms are reminder of how precious life is...

2011-06-28T07:05:00.000-07:00

To the editor:

Amid all the controversies, agendas, politics, etc., that usually grace this space in our newspaper, I ask permission to bend your ears on something seldom written about. It will not rally anyone to any causes, start any controversies or even merit a reply letter in this section of the paper --- but it will make some stop and think.

Has anyone noticed how beautiful the blooming wisteria is? It is everywhere!

Wisteria is my favorite flower. To me, the purple buds creating its beauty and fragrance are unsurpassed. Only the short time it blooms is to my displeasure. Some of you may enjoy it like I do while others curse its clinging vines that seem to take over anything in its path.

Wisteria wasn't always my favorite flower, to be quite honest with you, flowers never interested me period until a couple of years ago. My sister, Kristi, started my appreciation for gardening. Wisteria, her favorite, was the crowning touch she wanted on the courtyard wall in her garden.

Today, I sit on a bench upon a brick courtyard my dad made. The wisteria is in full bloom on the towering trees bordering the garden. Adjacent to the courtyard, framed by the wisteria, is the final resting place of my dear sister. Like the beautiful purple buds that bloom too briefly, her beauty was also short lived. A tragic accident took her from us almost two years ago. The nature of the accident is unimportant, the result would be the same -- the method of the loss is irrelevant to the loss. We miss her dearly and would give anything to have her with us still.

As I reflect upon the metaphor mentioned, I cannot help but think of others I knew and loved dearly, whose time among us was short lived -- my niece, Tosha; my best friend, Ron Aman; his brother, L.G.; and another friend, Eric Tafoa.

I realize that I'm not special -- everyone suffers loss. Truly, suffering is the common thread woven through us all.

Can any good come from suffering? This is a question that each of us has to answer on a personal level. Will we become bitter or better?

As for me, I have learned many important lessons through this endeavor. It seems my eyesight is improving -- I've learned to see the unseen, for the things we see are temporal and that which is unseen is everlasting. For example, when I see a small cross and flowers placed along a roadside I can actually see the suffering family and have compassion for them. No longer are statistics merely numbers, they represent lives shaken to their very foundations. I can now look past the wheelchair and see a wonderfully made person sitting there. I appreciate my family and friends more, but most of all, I have learned to feel a special kindred to complete strangers.

Am I perfect? No way. I am merely a poor sinner saved by grace. Do I still hurt? You bet, but so do we all. My sister's death and all the storms I've experienced were not in vain. The lessons I have learned are priceless to me -- after all, they came at a very high price.

If there is one point I can make in this short letter let it be this -- love those around you. Realize that they are only lent to you and can be taken back at any time.

Spend more time with each other, reconcile where need be, communicate more, realize the precious gift of life you have and that same gift is in those around you, loosen yourself from the choking vines of this world and see the beauty -- it's all around you.

Bernie Rosage Jr.

Jacksonville
JACKSONVILLE DAILY NEWS -- THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 2000

A Letter to my Children...

2011-06-27T07:41:00.000-07:00

This is a letter that I wrote to my dear children

a little over a week after my sister's death.

It was my way of trying to explain to them.... WHY?

You may find yourself in the same position I was in.

Hopefully you can glean from this letter some answers,

explainations, and comfort.

July 29, 1998.

To my dearest children;
Lyndsey, Whitney, and Dylan:

The three of you have grown right before my eye's. Sometimes time seems to speed by, while other times it seems to stand still. It seems only yesterday that your mother and I held you in our arms. Those were the days when Band-Aids and Peptobismol could fix everything. But now you are of age to know what it is like to have a broken heart and feel the pain of loss.

As you turn to us for help and to answer the question - WHY? - know that we will always be there to help ease your pain, however, we do not always have the answers to questions to difficult for man to answer. My children, do not feel dismayed, for your mother and I often feel as helpless as you do right now. Our comfort is in knowing that each one of us will be with Aunt Kristi again one day in Heaven. The pain you are feeling right now will be replaced with joy and your tears will forever be wiped away. I'm sorry your daddy doesn't have all the answers, but always know that you have another Father who does. Sometimes His answers are not what we always want to hear at that moment, or sometimes they are beyond our understanding, but in His own time and in His own way, they will clearly be revealed to us.

When each one of you were infants I always dreaded "shot day" at the doctor's office. Your helpless, little chubby bodies didn't know what they were in for. You would look at me and your mom with those loving little eyes till the second the needle pricked your skin. The tears and screams would come and when you finally were able to open your eyes enough to see us, you would give us a look as if to say, "Why did you let this hurt me daddy and mommy?" We knew what you were saying and you couldn't even talk at the time. But with your baby minds, how could we convince you that the pain you felt from the vaccination shot was for your own good and would keep you from getting deathly sick in the future. We were sad for your pain but we had the broader picture, and when you let us, we were able to hold you, comfort you, and wipe away your tears. Now you are all old enough to understand why you got those shots. At that time there was no way you could understand, you simply forgot the pain when it went away a few minutes later.

The hurt you feel and the answer to the question "Why?" about your Aunt Kristi's death, in a lot of ways, is just like "shot day" at the doctor's office. Right now we are all like the crying infant that doesn't see the whole picture. Our Father is looking at us and knows why we are hurting and He will hold us, comfort us, and wipe away our tears, if we let Him. We just have to trust that He knows what he is doing and someday (just like you understand the importance of shots now) we will see the whole picture, have all the answers, and understand this painful thing called death. Someday may seem like a long time to you but it is only a "blink" to God.

Until "someday" comes, always remember that I love each one of you more than you can imagine (and I know how good your imaginations are!) I am always here for you to talk to, cry to, or hug on. I will be praying for each one of you.

Your Loving Father,
Dad

Weeping Willows

2008-09-13T09:02:00.000-07:00

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