Tag: Gratitude

Posted on

Not Enough Left

In Dad’s final days, he tells us stories. In this moment, he admits that he doesn’t have enough left. He realizes the end is very close. We assure him that we are not disappointed in him, that we are proud of him, and that we love him. While these are painful moments to relive, they help tremendously in the process of grief. I’m so grateful to have our voices of togetherness recorded so that they will always remain close and just a click away when I need them most.

Not Enough Left Nonet

no one was disappointed in Dad

when he didn’t have enough left

he’d been fighting a long time

and had lost too much strength

to go on living

we assured him

we loved him

and were

proud

Posted on

The Value of TIME

Even though the days leading up to Dad’s death had some tears along the way, the laughter and the honest moments discussing the fine arts of bodily business got us through what could have been much sadder times. My brother and I found such humor in Dad’s way of putting things. He was a man of words, often high-brow words that no one else in the room knew, but every now and then he’d throw out a zinger of a word that left no question about its meaning yet still raised an eyebrow because it was so unexpected. The Reverend Dr. Wilson Felix Haynes, Jr., our dad, was a man who could talk backwoods Georgia slang and discuss the finer points of art by Michelangelo with layered meanings in scripture in the same 5 minute conversation, in which we also discussed the value of TIME.

Today, I share an acrostic poem inspired by the recorded conversation above.

On the Sculpting of David

T here’s an angel

I n this rock,

M ichelangelo

E xplained

Posted on

Dad’s Love for Our Mother

In Dad’s final days, he shared words about his love of our mother with us. We are grateful to have had parents who loved each other their whole lives. In this conversation and in the audio clips we share today, we find great peace. Dad knew where he was going, and he knew he would be with her when he arrived. We’re confident today that he is there and that they have been reunited. In our grief, this brings us the greatest joy!

she was the love of

his life ~ Miriam Jones Haynes ~

as he was of hers

Here, he explains how he rejoins her now.

Posted on

Springs of Elim

In Dad’s final days, we gathered audio clips to preserve his stories, prayers, and words of wisdom. In today’s clip, he shares about one of his favorite topics – The Springs of Elim – and how they worked in his own life.

fresh Springs of Elim

waters of restoration

reviving the soul

Posted on

SHINE

In Dad’s final days, he shared stories with us. I recorded them, and my brother and I are celebrating these memories and stories throughout the month of July. In today’s audio clip, Dad shares an acrostic he has written in the middle of the night using an acrostic from the Bible verse Matthew 5:16, “Let your light so shine before men……” using the word SHINE. Here is Dad’s middle-of-the-night acrostic poem:

Dad’s SHINE Acrostic

Set goals

Hang tough

Invest wisely (it’s not money….it’s time)

Nurture others

Empathize

He says the Jim Valvano speech is the best ever, and that we should all listen to it, so I’m linking it here: https://youtu.be/HuoVM9nm42E. Today, in memory of Felix Haynes and Jimmy Valvano, let’s all go out and laugh and think….and cry.

Posted on

Open Write Day 2 of 3 July 2025

Today for the second day of the July Open Write, Jennifer Jowett of Michigan and Deborah Wiles of Georgia are our hosts. They inspire us to write I Once Knew poems, using a process they describe at this link. Hop over and read some of the poems that will be eclectic and unexpected. This is one such random poem process that is, what I believe, makes poetry shine and sparkle.

To Be Continued

I once knew Miss Sue

who taught me

how to swim in

her backyard pool

now filled in

with earth and flowers

I once stayed at

The Blue Swallow Motel

with the Swiss dot bedspread

and Moon Pies on the pillows

and t-shirts advertising

refrigerated air conditioning

as I drove Route 66

I swam in the Illinois

cornfield sunset

I swooned over the

coconut cream pie

at the Midpoint Cafe

in Adrian, Texas

I sweltered in the

Palo Duro Canyon

Texas heat

where even the road runners

know to sit in the shade

of the picnic tables

I sweethearted a

photo finish kiss

with my husband at

Cadillac Ranch

I swapped my beaded

quartz bracelet for one

made of turquoise and

mother of pearl

in Albuquerque

at the store with

the red war paint door

because it reminded me of

my mother

I swore to return to

finish the route

to be continued…..

Posted on

July Open Write Day 1 of 3 with Jennifer Jowett

Today’s host for the first day of the July Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Jennifer Jowett of Michigan. You can read her full prompt here, inspiring writers to compose a poem of Memory Threads – – a way to breathe in healing through fabric of story and connection.

This month, I’ve been capturing Dad’s final words and stories in audio clips and poems as he inched closer and closer to Heaven, one foot in this world and one in the next. It’s as if Jennifer’s prompt was written just for me. That’s the thing about poetry ~ it meets you exactly where you are and invites you into the vast realm of each moment, scattering the light and blanketing the dark and swimming fully immersed in the shadows. For me, there is no greater healing than what is found in prayer and verse. I’m convinced it’s why the Bible itself – the Holy Scripture – is written in verse. Because it casts light on all truth and heals souls right where they are, and it invites personal response.

I hope you will visit the link above today and read some of the poems and, perhaps, write your own. Even if you don’t share it with anyone, my wish for you is the peace of writing and the healing of expression. Forget perfection. Forget whether it’s good or not, whether it’s right or wrong. There are no rules.

Just dive in.

Still Life with Dying Father

my brother and I

sat by our father

in his final hours

each labored breath

casting ethereal ripples

on the gossamer veil

hanging sheer and thin

between man and Maker

each weakening whisper

each story

each prayer

each memory

becoming weightless

dancing gracefully

toward the shimmering glow

Posted on

We Weren’t Orchid Guys

In Dad’s final days, he told us all the stories of his life – – so many stories! He and his friends weren’t orchid guys – – they were white sport coat with pink carnation guys.

Money mattered, and they didn’t have much.

He and his cousin Porky sold crawfish – and a few snakes – to support their love life. back in the days when corsages cost $2.50 to $2.95. That’s what swamp folks did, and Dad grew up in Waycross, Georgia – home of the Okefenokee Swamp.

Back in the Day on Creswell Street in Waycross

we weren’t orchid guys

I wore a white sport coat with

a pink carnation

Posted on

12 Bucks for a Cottonmouth

The words of a dying man are treasures.

Dad shared stories in his final days – time he spent with Henry Aaron, his father’s time with Shoeless Joe Jackson and the baseballs we must keep….our weird family, and what to do with the Roseville china, sponsoring love life through crawfish, and selling Cottonmouths for twelve bucks…….all these things that express the flavor and quirkiness of our family. I’m glad we captured these stories on audio so that we can revisit them as we go through the process of grieving our loss of Dad. These moments of the most random conversations filled with memories are priceless to me, no matter how scattered they may seem to others. I’ve used the chain Haiku form here in the poem I’m sharing today, using Dad’s exact words in these lines.

Twelve Bucks for a Cottonmouth

my brother is a

freebie baby, a clearance

kid of great value

our weird family

snake blood in our DNA

swamp genes in our veins

serendipitous

steering currents bring surprise

unexpected guests

prayer conversations

important time together

letting kids climb trees

these things that happen

hodgepodge of mismatchery

eclectic, unique

Okefenokee

twelve bucks for a cottonmouth

Wings Service Station

I sponsored my love

life selling crawfish, Dad said

(priceless audio)