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| Jerry and his son-in-law John Bouchard walk across the bridge over Mikinaak Creek toward Jerry's shop. |
Jerry Solom walked on July 23, 2019.
It's three months and a day since we lost Jerry.
Joe emailed me from France three days ago, "I miss Jerry".
I replied, "Me too."
And so do all of his family, friends and neighbors.
Looking for something else, I found this image of Jerry and his son-in-law John Bouchard leisurely walking north across the bridge toward Jerry's shop. I sent it on to John to brighten his day.
Jerry's wife, Marion, has been reluctant to cross the bridge in her car after all the heavy rain we've had since September, an estimated fourteen inches in Palmville alone, causing the Mikinaak to rapidly rise within a foot of the bottom of the bridge and lap at its approach, although a large culvert north of the bridge relieves the flow somewhat. But she's seen it worse. In those days they used a boat.
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| Mikinaak Creek washes out Solom's road north of the bridge. Year unknown. |
Thanks for taking me with you back to personal memories of Jerry. I read some Emily Dickinson, too:
ReplyDeleteI measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes –
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long –
Or did it just begin –
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain –
I wonder if it hurts to live –
And if They have to try –
And whether – could They choose between –
It would not be – to die –
I note that Some – gone patient long –
At length, renew their smile –
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil –
I wonder if when Years have piled –
Some Thousands – on the Harm –
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –
Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve –
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love –
The Grieved – are many – I am told –
There is the various Cause –
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes –
There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call "Despair" –
There's Banishment from native Eyes –
In sight of Native Air –
And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –
To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they're mostly worn –
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like my own –
Jerry and I walked that walk so many times...
ReplyDeleteEach time whether in silence or deep conversation
I was the better for it.