Life on Earth

I knew my father best in his retired years when the pace of his life was a little slower than his earlier years. He did everything very deliberately, and, he did try to do everything. He just never could shake the call to be a leader. He would help anyone, anywhere if they asked, and he might help them even if they didn’t.

Cancer took his life at a full 65 years of age on April 26, 2007.

One gift that my father’s death offered was the opportunity for family to take time out of their busy, separated lives. We sat around telling old stories and memories, and also looking at old photographs. I wanted to show some of them here in honor of my father, family and stories.

I particularly like the image above. It is of my father while at the Howe cottage on Lake George. It reminds me of his reflective, spiritual side, although I know he probably was just playing around. Images speak to us in many different ways.

Many of the images we looked through were images that I had never seen. I keep coming back to the image below, of my grandfather Kenneth Howe, because it is like looking into a picture of myself. This image ends the debate of where I get my good looks and the shiny top. Compare…

The image of my great-grandparents below shows the humor that runs through the family. I’m not sure of the date that this photo was taken, but there was a series of these images taken with the same backdrop of flat, agricultural land of lower Michigan. I just think this is a hilarious image.

And below, my father’s legacy. From tallest to shortest, Sister Maria, Brother Ricky, Matt and Julie and finally, myself, Gary Jr. This might be the only photo in the family with all five of the siblings together. I wish I had still had that suit!

Below, my brother Matt saying goodbye after a long three days at the funeral home. We will all miss my father.

Thanks dad.

The following is a lot of what I felt at the funeral.

Hopi Prayer

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on the ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there, I did not die.