Tag Archives: remembrance

Eyes Open

In loving memory of George Williamson, 1945-2021

After my father passed away in September, I had a couple of days where it felt like I had to just chin up and keep going through life and certain responsibilities. We got the call on a Saturday morning, and it wasn’t until Tuesday night that I could finally sit down at the piano to pour out my heart a bit without feeling like I had something else to prepare for or occupy my mind.

I played for a little bit, thinking of the song I had written for my father (which I was fortunate enough to share with him in July).

As I played, I considered what it must be like to respond to that invitation to “take My hand” — what it must be like after years of declining health for my Dad to suddenly find himself in a body not merely restored or healed, but upgraded into eternal glory.

I thought of the hallucinations that terrified him at times… the weakness and shaking in his limbs from Parkinson’s disease… the withered legs of the man who used to sprint down the street racing against my brother and me…

For the faithful, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord… and what a tremendous joy that must be.

I didn’t get to share this one with my Dad, obviously. I only got to imagine what it was like for him to open his eyes to wonders and splendor beyond our comprehension.

Maybe one day, he’ll tell me his side of the story. I can’t wait to hear how much better it was than what I pictured.

Maybe it won’t matter, because we’ll have better things to do.

Until then, Dad.

Eyes Open

You take His hand
And your grip is strong and firm again like His
Rise to your feet
And your legs feel like they’d outrun space and time
Open your eyes
To the wonders of the sights more real
Than any of this world you left behind

Awoken
To Heaven
Eyes open
True living

There’s no more pain
In a body uncorrupted by decay
No darkness remains
All the fearful visions scattered in the day
Trembling now
Only when you’re filled with wonder
At the majesty and glory on display

Awoken
To Heaven
Eyes open
True living
Arisen
In splendor
Eyes open
Forever

I can hardly imagine all the suffering you went through
I can’t understand what all the pain was like for you
But I take comfort in the thought of what it must mean
To be made complete and new
And that one day I’ll join you

Awoken…

To look upon the face
Of the One in whose image you were made

Take My Hand is the song I wrote for my father before he passed, and a “prequel” to this song.

Take My Hand

In loving memory of George Williamson, 1945-2021

Back in July, I received an unexpected call from my Mom. Actually, I kind of expected a call from her — we had sent her copies of her memoir that I edited and published on Amazon KDP, and when I saw her number, I assumed she’d gotten the package.

“David,” she said, “Dad’s ‘transitioning.'”

I didn’t know what that meant. (It turns out, that meant that his gradually declining health due to Parkinson’s was likely taking a sharp turn for the worse.)

I didn’t know how long he had left. (No one did. When I spoke with his primary nurse, she said it could be a week, or it could be months.)

I didn’t know what to expect or if I could even get to him in time. He had already been confined to a sick bed, needing oxygen and almost complete assistance with anything physical.  He had been suffering hallucinations. He wasn’t able to keep food down, and his skin color was changing in a bad way.

I got my ticket and worked out time off from the company, but all of the unanswered questions and unknowns occupied my mind. As I usually do in those times, I sat at the piano and started playing my feelings, expressing the jumble of confusion and concern that I couldn’t put into words.

Memories came together and stood out — interactions with my Dad that shaped the rest of my life.

I wrote this song just before flying home, and was able to share it with my Dad in person. My Mom used it as part of my Dad’s celebration of life after he passed in September.

For those who have lost someone, I hope it’s a comfort.  In Christ we grieve, but with profound hope. (1 Thess 4:13)

Rest in peace, Dad.

Take My Hand

I remember walking down the railroad tracks
The Bible says train up a child, oh how you loved to joke ‘bout that
And I’d always try to balance on the rail
But I’d stumble or I’d slip or find some other way to fail
Then I’d hear you say

Take my hand, son
You can hold on
I’ll keep you up when you can’t do it on your own
Set your eyes on the horizon
Step by step, Let’s see just how far you can go
Until it’s time to head on home

I remember when I struck out on my own
My new job would take me far from everyone I’ve loved or known
In a panic I remember calling you
Cause I didn’t want to go, I didn’t know what I should do
Then I heard you say,

Take God’s hand, son
Then just hold on
He’ll keep you up when you can’t do it on your own
Set your eyes on the horizon
In His steps You’ll see just how far you can go
Until you make a place your home

And we both’ve had our share of falls and stumbles on the way,
But the love and grace of Jesus never falters, never fades
Until the day the shadows of the valley of death dissipate
And you see His face
And you hear your Savior say

Take My hand, son
You can hold on
I’ll raise you up Into a new life of your own
Set your eyes on the horizon
Where golden streets Lead to a glory-blazing throne
My son, it’s time, come on let’s go
Well done, and welcome to your home

Note: After my father passed in September, I wrote a follow-up to this song, imagining the other side of that first experience of Heaven.

Distance

i skipped Rachael Ritchey’s Blog Battle challenge this week. I had a couple ideas but nothing really came together in my mind.

Then my captain reminded our office that today is our base’s 24 hour POW/MIA Remembrance Run to honor America’s prisoners of war and those missing in action. 

  
I wrote down some thoughts this morning, and showed up to walk laps on lunch. While people run with a POW/MIA flag, servicemembers read a list of the missing.  Pure serendipity, I was walking past as they read several “Williamson” entries from World War II.

This week’s word took on a different meaning. 

DISTANCE
Though we’re separated by 

Both time and distance

Anyone can hear my cry 

If they but pause to listen

A foray in a foreign land

That didn’t go the way we planned

Becomes a test of strength and honor

Which I must withstand 

So little left to hope in 

My resolve threatens to crack 

My body may be broken 

But my spirit is intact 

Memory my only token 

Of all that I now lack

The oaths that I have spoken 

I will keep ’til I get back 

All the tears you cry in silence

All the nights you felt my absence

All the times we would have kissed

All the moments that I’ve missed

And the pictures that I’m not in

While I’m gone but not forgotten