We spent last week in Wisconsin celebrating Patty in all of her favorite ways: through laughter, stories, time with family and friends, ridiculous amounts of food and drinks, and, of course, polka. (I have a special place in my heart for a gal who loves polka.) I can't help but think she would've been happy with the way things transpired there. (Even when people started bringing up the stories that they couldn't share at the church...)
As I've reminisced over the last several days, this poem has been weaving through my thoughts; verses I haven't recalled in years. As I share it, my soul waves a bittersweet farewell to Patty Larson. May your spirit be free to dance on the wind.
I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch
until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says, ' There she goes!
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
'There she goes! ' ,
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
'Here she comes!'
- Henry Van Dyke
