TheBanyanTree: In Memoriam of Pappa John July 19, 2004

[Bonnie Brace]

I had to take my daughter to Maryland last week to a funeral. It was the
funeral for her birth father  Pappa John or, as we found out during the
service, Long John for he was a tall man.  No matter what he was known as
the fact was he died and left behind a legacy.  Part of that legacy happens
to be my daughter.  Pappa John and Kari only had ten years together but they
were one filled with pleasant memories and no regrets. He came back into her
life when he decided to really quite drinking and follow the program and
what AA has to offer. He mended fences and wanted to reconnect with his
children. Kari was the last of his 3 children he needed to connect with and
the only one who had been adopted. We had always kept in contact with her
birth family so if they ever wanted to get in touch with ehr or vice versa
they could. During her growing up we would send pictures to one of her aunts
to whom she was a favorite neice. It was this aunt who keptthe whole family
informed. So when we were called that day asking if John could contact Kari,
we left it up to her. She was old enough to decide inspite of her handicap.
After much thought she decided she would like to hear from him and called
her aunt and said yes. Pappa John called within minutes and for the next ten
years there were calls, cards, visits. We all came to know and love John and
his sense of humor.

When he called to tell us this past Thanksgiving he was going in hospital
for surgery because they had discovered cancer we were concerned. But in
typical John style he was upbeat and encouraging to Kari.  John fought hard,
first surgery, then chemo, then radiation treatments.  The pain was great
and I know it was difficult for him. So much so that he became depressed and
started drinking again to help with the pain.  But through all of it he
still managed to call Kari and still managed to put on a good front.  For
all of Johns faults and short comings there is one thing that remains
constant. He did love his children and in the end he was able to have a
relationship with all 3 of them. Something he missed when they were younger.
I for one, am glad that John died knowing his wonderfully, sweet,
delightful, daughter.
The soul of man is immortal and imperishable.
~plato~
John Carroll O'Donnell
December 31, 1937 -July 19 2004





I didn't intend for this to be a story about John but about something
else...I guess that will have to be part 2...



The highest result of education is tolerance~~ Helen Keller~~
May your days and nights be filled with joy and laughter.

<>>>>>>>>>>>-------------B.


----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Sharon Mack" <SMACK at berkshirecc.edu>
To: <thebanyantree-remsset.com at lists.remsset.com>
Sent: Tuesday, August 03, 2004 10:30 AM
Subject: TheBanyanTree: Story #3-MAMA'S SONG


> Journal Prompt
>
> Thursday July 29, 2004
>
> Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you
> renew your springs that never dry up. ~Pearl S. Buck
>
> MAMA'S SONG
>
> "My inner spring dried up long time ago.  Actually don't ever b'lieve
> there wuz one to begin with."
>
> Kara drew hard on her cigarette, twisting her mouth to blow the smoke
> sideways away from Dev's face. She laughed a raspy laugh and then
> coughed a smoker's cough!
>
> Dev looked at her sadly, "Of course there was Kara.  Think back to a
> good time.  Perhaps when you were a child or when you were younger.
> Maybe there was a time before you..." he stumbled here, "...a
> you...ah...entered the profession."
>
> She laughed and her dead eyes came alive momentarily.  "The profession?
>  Is that what you call this here that I'm doin'?  A profession?"  Her
> hand shook slightly as she took another pull from her cigarette.
>
> "Isn't there one good time you can go back to?"  Dev persisted.
>
> Kara grew quiet, stubbed out her cigarette but not before lighting the
> next one with it.  She let her arm hang off the chair loosely and
> flicked the new cigarette nervously even though there was no ash yet.
> Dev sat quietly letting her go back, letting her think.
>
> "Y' know," she turned in her seat and leaned close to Dev.  He could
> smell her stale alcohol breath and cheap perfume.  He wanted to pull
> away but he didn't want to offend her.  Maybe they were getting
> someplace at last.  Maybe he could do some good.  Maybe she would die
> peacefully, drawing from that spring at last.
>
> "Once when I was a itty bitty thang, before the uncle and my brother
> got their hands on me, there mighta' been a minute up in the woods
> behind our house.  I was there with my ma and she was washin' clothes
> and was singin'.  I sat on a rock next to that old wringer washer and
> learned the words.  She had a purty voice and I wanted to sing jest like
> her.  'Course I couldn't, but I useta' dream that maybe when I grew
> up....but then the uncle came in ta live with us and my brother came
> home from jail and I ain't never thought about it agin....till now
> anyways.
>
> Dev smiled a slow sad smile.
>
> "You think on that moment Kara...just that moment and nothing else.
> That's your inner spring.  Sing the song with your mother like you did
> that day.  Listen to her voice."
>
> Kara put her head back and sighed.  She closed her eyes and smiled a
> little girl's smile.
>
>
>
>
> She never saw it coming...Dev's hand on the knife as he raised it to
> her throat.  She never saw the tear fall from his eye as he sliced her
> throat, or the gentle way he placed her body on the floor and kissed her
> tired face.
>
> Placing her hands across her chest and the knife next to her still
> body, Dev felt sure he had done a good thing and she had died
> peacefully....drawing from her inner spring at last.
>
> Sharon L. Mack
>
>