Making memories of what was today

Hold tight to the sound of the music of living

Happy songs from the laughter of children at play;

Hold my hand as we run through the sweet fragrant meadows,

Making mem'ries of what was today.

Tender words, gentle touch, and a good cup of coffee,

And someone that loves me and wants me to stay;

Hold them near while they're here, and don't wait for tomorrow

To look back and wish for today.

Take the blue of the sky and the green of the forest,

The gold and the brown of the freshly-mown hay,

Add the pale shades of spring and the circus of autumn,

And weave you a lovely today.

For we have this moment to hold in our hands,

And to touch as it slips through our fingers like sand;

Yesterday's gone, and tomorrow may never come,

But we have this moment, today.

Lyrics by Gloria Gaither.

Music by William J. Gaither.

© 1975 William J. Gaither.

Tombstone Tuesday :: To be at peace

To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. 

To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. 

To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace. 

Oscar Wilde

Today I visited yesterday . . .

Today I visited yesterday
And walked among the graves
Of family and friends from long ago
Whose memory had begun to fade.


  The graves were unattended
As were my thoughts of them
When a vision of the ages past
Brought back my sense of kin.

The vision showed the church lawn
On a crisp summer day
The table spread, the food prepared
And friends who would break bread.

  All my relatives were there
both young and old
Grandma and I walked hand and hand
Sharing stories never told.

We laughed and cried
And shared our thoughts
And I found the friend
I thought I'd lost.

As the sun began to fade . . .
The church bell rang out clear
Grandma and the others
slowly disappeared . . .

  Today I visited yesterday
And now the memory is strong
Of the family from which I came . . . and now belong . . .

by Pat Conner Rice

We're all here for a family reunion . . .

Here we are . . . 
gathered together again . . .
on this . . . 
our Reunion Day.
 
Reminiscing 
and laughing 
and crying . . .
about all of our yesterdays.

Those special times . . . 
we vow ne'er to forget . . .
as the years . . . 
how they seem to fly.
 
And our precious loved ones . . . 
so sorely missed . . .
as one-by-one . . . 
they have said, "good-bye."

But for now . . . 
I believe they are with us . . .
and if we could hear them . . . 
perhaps they would say,
 
"May the circle once again be unbroken . . .
on this . . . Our Reunion Day."

And as we travel on . . . 
through life's unknown days . . .
may we anticipate that day up in Heaven,
 
When we'll all gather 'round . . . 
and once again hear them say . . .

"We're all here for a Family Reunion!"




 
P.S. I vaguely remember being inspired to pen these words by something I read . . . somewhere. While Googling parts of the above poem, the poem posted > HERE < is the only thing similar that came up.

The reunion of tomorrow

Mark Twain quotations on death . . .

• Death is the starlit strip
  between the companionship of yesterday
  and the reunion of tomorrow.

  
  . . . on a monument erected to Mark Twain & Ossip Gabrilowitsch

  
  
• It has been reported that I was seriously ill --
  it was another man;
  dying -- it was another man;
  dead -- the other man again . . .
  As far as I can see,
  nothing remains to be reported,
  except that I have become a foreigner.
  When you hear it, don't you believe it.
  And don't take the trouble to deny it.
  Merely just raise the American flag
  on our house in Hartford
  and let it talk.

  
  . . . Letter to Frank E. Bliss, 11/4/1897

  
  

Remembering our cousin . . .
Samuel Langhorne Clemens
30 November 1835 ~ 21 April 1910