Today is one of those days when this serves as a good reminder. Much love, xoxox ellie
More coming tomorrow – I promise its a good one. A little bit comes from the heart each day, is collected, edited and is almost ready to be shared.
…like an army helmet.
This was a letter I wrote to a dear friend who, on May 28, gradated from this life to the next. A helmet added to my dad’s collection of WWII memorabilia brought with it a picture of a handsome young soldier. With this transaction between my father and this soldier, at that point a late octogenarian, came a series of letters telling stories from the beaches of Normandy, the foxholes in Germany, the Christmas spent in Italy. . .a life I cannot imagine but without him and others like him, I would not know the life I know today. I felt a connection to this kind man protected by this helmet through these detailed accounts of history that arrived in plain envelopes on wide ruled paper.
For reasons I do not know, I felt compelled to write Mr. Aaron Parks myself – to thank him for taking the time to share his life with us and to share with him a bit of my own. Soon the mail brought letters addressed to me, carefully written on wide ruled paper, and a unique and irreplaceable friendship began. I became his “other daughter” and, in kind, he became an invaluable member of my own family. I was too ill this spring to visit him in the final stretch of a 90+ year adventure, but I had one more story of my own to tell and with gratitude and love for the entire Parks family – my late, great Aaron and his sweet and beautiful wife Maxine, I share it with you:
My dear Aaron,
If I was a little stronger I would be at your side so you could tell me the history of all of the gadgets that I don’t know because I didn’t get a Purdue Education (I hope I’ve made that deficiency up to you by marrying a Purdue graduate).What I would tell you would be about seeing the picture of a handsome young soldier that accompanied a letter and helmet that has become a part of my father’s “office museum.” I read the letters and the stories and in my soul knew that there was a friendship to be had between that handsome young soldier (now with loads of life experience and more stories to tell) and a younger Indiana girl who had a hunger for those stories and a love for that mature soldier and his family, especially the sweet Maxine.
I’ve always considered you an honorary part of my heart and my family – and I do not say it lightly when I tell you that I love you. When I met you six years ago – this month, May – at a blacksmithing demonstration, it was a dream come true to see the letters on lined paper come to life. I have kept every letter from you I’ve ever received in a box. Next to my chair is the lovely ottoman that you caned for me…but on my bedside table is a beautiful flower out of a nail or railroad tie (see? I didn’t go to Purdue, I don’t know these things) mounted in a wooden base that you made for me. It is dedicated from AP to EP. It is one of the first things I see every day and on days I don’t feel well, I look at it all the time. See? You bring be flowers every day! (Now, pass that hint to Kent for me….)
We could sit and talk all day and never run out of stories to tell – we’d always need more time. But the most important story I have to tell you is a love story and it goes something like this:
Aaron, a helmet that kept you safe during an uncertain and dynamic time in your life – and our nation’s history -a difficult time that shaped and created a free country as I know it – is the most cherished piece of metal in the world. All of the amazing things that aligned to form one of the most unique and wonderful friendships between you and I make me certain that God exists…and if we can find each other the round-about way we did in this life….we can find each other in the next. So you keep an eye out for me and save some stories because I’ll be looking for you.
For the piece of metal that kept my beloved Aaron safe, I am grateful. I said that we had a wonderful friendship – but you and Maxine are my family. I love you SO much. So, so much. My blacksmithed flower will always be the first thing I see. Thank you for bringing me flowers every day. Your other daughter loves you and your Sweet Maxine.
Pretty good story, eh?
You are surrounded by those that love you most. I am with you in spirit, as I always and forever will be.
With love from your “other daughter,”
Ellen
Recently my friend Tiffany asked me what the biggest challenges or hurdles in life came when complicated by a chronic illness. I spoke of the frustrations in not being able to set concrete plans; I told her about how hard it was not to have a REAL driver’s license in my purse – a “state ID” isn’t the same. It will get you in a bar or on a plane but not in a car for a trip to the store when you’ve forgotten an ingredient for dinner or just to experience the beauty of an Indiana spring or fall with the windows down and the music up. I told her that I could easily go an entire day with a 6:34 utterance of “I love you, honey.Be careful; have a good day” and not speak another WORD to a human being until Kent comes in around 5:17 PM – “who’s my goo’puppa dog? You’re a goo’girl, yes you are” to my dachshund” or asking Pipsqueak to quit walking on my laptop when I am trying to update my Facebook status, though treasured conversations with my furry girls, just aren’t the same.
The hardest aspect with which I must deal is loneliness. Sometimes that just means wanting to see a friend, feel the embrace of a hug, share a libation and a natter. Other days it means having someone to get me some 7UP when I literally cannot walk to the kitchen after an hour of “shouting groceries” (my favorite new euphemism for vomiting). Even knowing a neighbor or a person is near in case I just need to know SOMEONE is near would be nice, but these days it seems too much to ask.
I had a wonderful day yesterday visiting with two DEAR friends and celebrating my beloved “Special K’s” 36th birthday but today I feel a bit more reticent. I’m not up to taking Facebook quizzes riddled with bad grammar but illuminating results. I’m having a day when I just need a hug – honest , plain and simple.
Forgive me for not being a shiny, happy person today. Today that is a mask I cannot wear.
I am working on a blog entry that could be the most vital, honest and critically important pieces I’ve ever written in my 34 years. I hope it will spark questions, dialogue and discovery. I’ll let you know when it is done. Today I hope you will forgive me for my reticence. Tomorrow is another day. . . and we’ll see what it holds, okay?
I send you much love. . .ellie
an angel with an edge 