GAYLE - 10 YEARS GONE

Today is the 10th anniversary of the death of my sister Gayle. I still miss her. Frank, Donna, Gretchen, and Eric, I know you miss her, too. Though we didn't live near each other, we talked on the phone or emailed nearly every day and visited back and forth from time to time. I think she would have liked Facebook, warts and all.

The photo shows Gayle in York on a day trip from London when we traveled together to England. We took the train and saw York Minster and other sights in the city.

Below is a poem I wrote some years ago when my grief was fresher. As time passes, the hurt is less, but I've never stopped missing her.

Why Couldn't You Stay?

You walked away; you left us
Bereft, bereaved.
How could you go?
It wasn't your doing,
I know, I know.
Yet, how could you go?

Two years passed and gone,
Slipped away.
After you left, I'd think
I'll call her; I'll email.
Oh no! None of that!
You won't answer.

Now I know you're gone.
No thoughts of visits to come,
Seeing your face, hearing your voice,
The sound of your laughter.
Sadness lingers, emptiness remains.
Why couldn't you stay?

June Butler - 04-27-08

54 YEARS

Tom and I celebrated 54 years of married life this past Sunday by forgetting the anniversary. I was reminded at the end of the church service, when the custom is to pray for people in the congregation who have birthdays and anniversaries and where they keep better records. We were planning to have lunch at the antiques show in town, so we made the lunch our celebration. We are incredibly fortunate to both be around for the celebration of the 54th year, both in reasonably good health for our ages, and still in our house where we've lived for 32 years.

"Grant, O God, in your compassion, that Tom and June, having taken each other in marriage, and affirming again the covenant which they have made, may grow in forgiveness, loyalty, and love; and come at last to the eternal joys which you have promised through Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen," (The Book of Occasional Services • 2003)

The ceremony was small and simple.  My greatly missed sister Gayle and my brother-in-law Frank sent us off on our two day honeymoon with a lovely, small celebration.

Here we are about to roll out in our "Just Married" decorated car on our way to St Augustine, Florida, for a one-night stay, and then to New Orleans briefly, before we moved to Mobile, Alabama, to our jobs at the Mobile Public Library.

The 1953 Chevrolet hardtop convertible broke down and died after we reached New Orleans, and we bought a new 1961 Ford Falcon with a trade-in and no money down, with only the verification of our employment as assurance.

THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS - THANKSGIVING

On this Twelfth Day of Christmas, I am thankful for finding my little lost wreath. The pin belonged to my sister, Gayle. After she died my nieces and nephew offered me a choice of a memento from her jewelry box or her clothes, and I chose the Christmas wreath. On Christmas Eve, I wore the pin to church and did not realize it was missing until I looked for it several days later. I knew the pin fell off either in church, in a crevice in the car, or in the street, in which case it was lost forever. Today, when I looked in the lost and found box in the parish hall, there it lay, all sparkly.

GAYLE - GONE SEVEN YEARS TODAY

My sister Gayle

I love Gayle, and I still miss her, and I expect I always will. The picture shows her getting ready for a party, and Gayle loved parties. She's wearing a tuxedo, which was the style for women some years ago.  Gayle and Frank, her husband, came to visit us, and apparently we were to attend a party.  When she unpacked her tux, I said, "Gayle, come see."  I went to my closet and took out a nearly identical tuxedo.  Too funny.  If I remember correctly, we did not wear our tuxedos to the same party.

Gayle was the person closest to me whom I've lost.  I love my mother, but we were not really close, although we were together quite a lot.  She was a good mother and, in many ways, a strong woman, as good as she could be under the adverse conditions of our family life as we were growing up, but she was emotionally distant.  My youngest sister died too young.  I love her, too, but for many years she was estranged from our family, so when she died, I grieved, especially that we were out of touch for so many years, but I didn't miss her constant presence.  I finally forgave my father before he died, but to say we were in any way close would be a lie.  We were on speaking terms, and that's the good news.  There you have our family life.

Though Gayle lived in Kansas City, we were in touch nearly every day, either by phone or by email.  I'd guess we would be communicating on Facebook if she was alive today.  I think of her often and wish so much that we could talk.  Gayle's husband, Frank, and her children, Donna, Gretchen, and Eric miss her presence, too.

Rather than resting in peace, I hope Gayle is partying in the great beyond.  I wrote the poem below on the anniversary of her death five years ago.  

Why Couldn't You Stay?

You walked away; you left us
Bereft, bereaved.
How could you go?
It wasn't your doing,
I know, I know.
Yet, how could you go?

Two years passed and gone,
Slipped away.
After you left, I'd think
I'll call her; I'll email.
Oh no! None of that!
You won't answer.

Now I know you're gone.
No thoughts of visits to come,
Seeing your face, hearing your voice,
The sound of your laughter.
Sadness lingers, emptiness remains.
Why couldn't you stay?

June Butler - 04-27-08

The photo above was taken in the Tower of London when Gayle and I traveled together a good many years ago.  The picture makes me sad, but it's the perfect metaphor for me for her death.  She was full of life, and she would have wanted more time, as we all would have wanted more time with her, but go she did.  God bless us every one.

EL CINCO DE MAYO - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GAYLE!

Today is my beloved sister Gayle's birthday. She died six years ago on April 27. We celebrated her life in a memorial service on her birthday, May 5, 2006. After the service, we had a quiet gathering of friends and family. Later that evening, we had a not-so-quiet gathering, in other words, a party. Gayle loved parties, so it was fitting.

She also loved that she shared her birthday with the Mexican celebration. Of course! Another occasion for a party.

¡Viva México! ¡Viva El Cinco de Mayo!

Viva Gayle! May we meet in the kingdom!

Friends of Gayle set up The Dillenkoffer Endowment to provide scholarship grants to gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered teens.  We know that it's not easy to come out as a teenager. The consequences, at worst, can be nothing less than deadly. I greatly admire all the young men and women who have the courage to step forward and claim their identities in the face of the difficulties.

If you would like to make a donation, here's the link.

(Reposted from last year with slight editing.)

REMEMBERING GAYLE - SIX YEARS

The picture of my sister Gayle was taken on the grounds of the Tower of London during our trip to England in the 1990s. We were headed to visit the Norman chapel inside the White Tower. I stopped to take a picture, and Gayle walked on. Today is the sixth anniversary of my sister's death. With courage, she fought off lymphoma 17 years before she died from pancreatic cancer. I still miss her. For me, the picture is a stunning metaphor for Gayle's walking away from all of us who love her.

Please pray for her husband, Frank and her three children, two grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Please pray for me and for her many friends who still miss her. She was a wonderful person. She loved to joke and laugh, and she loved a good party. She was a good wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She was a good sister and a good friend to me.

For the past ten days or so, I've been unusually doleful, and I've wondered why. There's a good bit going on in my family that could make me sad, but I'm fairly resilient, with my melancholy times lasting only a day or so. Yesterday, it dawned on me that in the days before the anniversary of Gayle's death, I grieve each year, even though I'm not constantly thinking about the approaching anniversary. Still, the body clock says it's a time to grieve.

WHY COULDN'T YOU STAY?

You walked away; you left us
Bereft, bereaved.
How could you go?
It wasn't your doing,
I know, I know.
Yet, how could you go?

Two years passed and gone,
Slipped away.
After you left, I'd think
I'll call her; I'll email.
Oh no! None of that!
You won't answer.

Now I know you're gone.
No thoughts of visits to come,
Seeing your face, hearing your voice,
The sound of your laughter.
Sadness lingers, emptiness remains.
Why couldn't you stay?

June Butler - 04-27-08

SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE ON

Last night, or rather this morning, just before I woke up, I dreamed that I was staying in an apartment in London, where my sister, Gayle, and her family were living at the time. Their children were still young. The time was near for me to return home, and I was gathering my belongings together and trying to work out whether I had time to cram in a couple of activities, like going to a play or visiting a museum before I left, but I was having such difficulty organizing my stuff that nothing like that seemed possible, which frustrated me quite a bit in my dream.

When I awakened, I thought my sister was still alive, and then I realized that she was gone. Bummer! What a start to the day. I have tears in my eyes as I type these words.

Prospero:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158

The photo above is of Gayle during our trip to London a good many years ago. We were visiting the Tower.

EL CINCO DE MAYO - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GAYLE!

Today is my beloved sister Gayle's birthday. She died five years ago on April 27. We celebrated her life in a memorial service on her birthday, May 5, 2006. After the service, we had a quiet gathering of friends and family. Later that evening, we had a not-so-quiet gathering, in other words, a party. Gayle loved parties, so it was fitting.

She also loved that she shared her birthday with the Mexican celebration. Of course! Another occasion for a party.

¡Viva México! ¡Viva El Cinco de Mayo!

Viva Gayle! May we meet in the kingdom!

Friends of Gayle set up The Dillenkoffer Endowment to provide scholarship grants to gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered teens. If you'd like to make a donation, click the link or click on the plaque on the right sidebar.

We know that it's not easy to come out as a teenager. The consequences, at worst, can be nothing less than deadly. I greatly admire all the young men and women who have the courage to step forward and claim their identities in the face of the difficulties.

UPDATE: Here are the names of the winners this year:

$5K winner-Clay Stacy - St. Louis, MO
$3K winner-Kyla Kiefer - Perryville, MO
$1K winner-Jessie Doggendorf - Dittmer, MO
$1K winner-Hayley Gilchrist - Wichita, KS

GAYLE - FIVE YEARS GONE

The picture of my sister Gayle was taken on the grounds of the Tower of London during our trip to England in the 1990s. We were headed to visit the Norman chapel inside the White Tower. I stopped to take a picture, and Gayle walked on. Today is the fifth anniversary of my sister's passing. With courage, she fought off lymphoma 17 years before she died from pancreatic cancer. I still miss her. For me, the picture is a stunning metaphor for Gayle's walk away from all of us who love her.

Please pray for her husband, Frank and her three children, two grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Please pray for me and for her many friends who still miss her. She was a wonderful person. She loved to joke and laugh, and she loved a good party. She was a good wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She was a good sister and a good friend to me.

This past Holy Week, I've been unusually sad, and I've wondered why. I take the week to heart, but usually not as much as this year. Then, on Monday, it dawned on me that in the days before the anniversary of Gayle's passing, I grieve each year, even when I'm not consciously aware that the anniversary approaches. Holy Week coincided with the period before the anniversary. Aha!

Why Couldn't You Stay?

You walked away; you left us
Bereft, bereaved.
How could you go?
It wasn't your doing,
I know, I know.
Yet, how could you go?

Two years passed and gone,
Slipped away.
After you left, I'd think
I'll call her; I'll email.
Oh no! None of that!
You won't answer.

Now I know you're gone.
No thoughts of visits to come,
Seeing your face, hearing your voice,
The sound of your laughter.
Sadness lingers, emptiness remains.
Why couldn't you stay?

June Butler - 04-27-08

Note: Reposted from last year with editing.

SPREADING ASHES

Periostyle at City Park in New Orleans.

My brother-in-law, the husband of my sister and best friend, who died almost two years ago, is visiting us. Today we will go to New Orleans and spread a few of her ashes near the Peristyle, pictured above, or somewhere in the park - clandestinely, of course, because I believe we're not allowed to do that. Don't tell.

When we were children, we often picnicked at City Park, Gayle took dancing lessons through high school and, on Sunday afternoons, the dance school students performed at the Peristyle. My sister met my brother-in-law after one of the dance recitals there, and they went on to get married and have three children. They were due to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary later in the year she died.