Dying, wet dandelions

This morning when I work up in the basement bedroom of his house I noticed outside the window some tangled, dying dandelions that had fresh drops of rain water on them. I meant to take a picture as soon as I went upstairs but a delicious breakfast that had been made, distracted me for awhile. When I got outside I noticed that the rain drops on the dandelions were gone but still took the picture. There was a strange beauty in these dying wet dandelions.

Today was also the birthday of my deceased young son, Peter. Peter was a good looking young man with a great sense of humor till he got ill in his early twenties. As many persons with mental illnesses he got beat up a few times and his noise was crooked. He was possessed with demons of the brain suffering some very low moments. Yet he survived for quite a wild creating some interesting artwork along the way. When he was 39 he became more aware of his great suffering and one day took his life.

When my wife, other son and I think about him it is usually the moments before his illness where he was creative and with a great sense of humor. In his illness he kept the creative part of himself but, except for rare moments, lost his great sense of humor. He showed great courage by surviving as long as he did with such great pain.

Like the dandelions this morning outside the window Peter’s life was not very good looking after he got sick. But he kept the beauty that was him and we were many times blessed as we now have with our older son and his family. The dandelion might be cold and wet, dying, but keeping its beauty.

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