Transplanted

 for Lillian Havenga (1922 ~ 2021)

Lily-of-the-Valley

always grew under the thornapple

next to the trout stream

on your spacious farm.

You always admired them;

large linear leaves

with tiny, delicate blossoms,

petite like you always were.

I laid on my belly

to photograph them one spring,

and gave the photo to you

for your 97th birthday,

as you laid on your back

in your narrow bed in the home;

all of us knowing you wouldn't

be seeing them growing again.

But they still grow there,

and in the spring I will go there

to transplant some lilies 

into the ground around 

the gravestone for you and Dad.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Grand Haven, Michigan (by Mary Havenga)

Basket of Hope

In honor of Lillian Havenga's Birthday ~ 10-22-22 > 9-2-21

You built your nest

strong and secure,

and placed four eggs

into a woven

basket of hope.

Ready to nurture

the invisible future.

You have recently flown away,

above the clouded blue sky,

and entered Heaven's bright glory.

Your descendants

have grown and matured,

and now carry on

your legacy of kindness.

And have themselves

built nests of hope

where their fledglings

will either grow and thrive,

or die too young.

© 2021 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan

2. Pray, Montana

3. Pickerel Lake Park / Fred Meijer Nature Preserve - Kent County - Michigan

 

 

This is Dementia

In loving memory of Lillian Havenga (October 22, 1922 ~ September 2, 2021)

They can't remember where they've been,
a dark road ahead with an uncertain end. 

Now surrounded by shadows of doubt.

Is happiness dimmed by time,
or simply forgotten in the fog of forgetting?

Feeling like a fallen fruit, 
wanting only respect and acceptance.

They have become abandoned buildings;
former great designs now become mysteries.

Are regrets surrendered,
or abandoned?


Preferring comfortable habits,
fearing new experiences.

They are hidden behind the trees,
stuck inside the shadows. 


Trying to accept this new stage of life
with grace and dignity.

Struggling to accept their
dependence on others. 

Waiting at the gate,
but not knowing what for.

Now carrying new burdens
with the uncertainty of an orphan.

Brief fragments of understanding,
like razor-thin ice, are shattered
as they are formed.

Becoming a stranger to yourself. 

The memory becomes shallower,
like ripples upon the shore. 

Drifting in the eddy
between the former self
and the darkness ahead. 

Searching the darkness
with diminishing options,
seeking sameness for easier decisions.

Their memories grow old,
packed with stories often-told;

gathered into lumps of lint

deep in their warm pockets.

Now becoming transparent
inside their lonely days,
time refuses to move.

Thoughts are all tangled,

twisted into turmoil.

Silent as an old photograph
trying to hold on to yesterday.

Their parade of days
diminishing in the distance.

Their thoughts have gone astray.
There is nothing more to say.

© 2021 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Ada, Michigan

2. Sierra Vista, Arizona

3. Kent County - Michigan

4. Fountain, Colorado

5. Buena Vista, Colorado

6. Loveland, Colorado

7. Grattan Township - Kent County - Michigan

8. Pickerel Lake Park - Kent County - Michigan

9. Home Woods - wetland - Kent County, Michigan

10. Lincoln Beach, Oregon

11. Pickerel Lake - Kent County - Michigan

12. Grand Teton National Park - Wyoming

13. Southern California

14. Yellowstone National Park - Wyoming

15. Olympic National Park - Washington

16. 1896 Schoolhouse - Elkhart, Kansas

17. Centennial, Wyoming

18. Lowell, Michigan

Lillian

 

Her soul longs to go home,

but her frail body lingers,

with only 77 pounds

to sustain her weakness.

Two months shy of 99,

her bony hands try to guide

the straw to her mouth

in slow, uncertain motion.

Hearing weak. Sight poor.

No appetite.

Her voice

a faint murmur.

Helplessness hangs heavy upon her.

Dependency drags her down daily.

She bears invisible pain,

yet never complains.

Long sleep is her escape

and salvation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This September morning 

Lillian passed

through Heaven's gate

and will now see with new eyes

the Glory of God. 

© 2021 Richard Havenga

In loving memory of

Lillian Marie Havenga 

October 22, 1922 ~ September 2, 2021