September 4, 2015
For our Karis Louise on a late summer day…until we meet again, here’s a message from Uncle Matt…
Where is the wind born and what is the sweet song it sings as it meets the trees and passes me here? Just where does she go? I know she sings a different song when she passes through the autumn leaves…then sings no more after those bows have shed their fall hues. Then she only whispers a solemn adieu.
Where do clouds come from? Perhaps from the seas, or the mountains beyond. Though you and others may often dread their coming, the sky mourns their passing…Why else would it become so empty and look so blue?
What makes the waves curl when they get near to the shore? Perhaps the joy of having traveled from beyond the horizon is so much to celebrate that they fight those last moments and the final yards…Yet they gather there and meld at the shore…then return to places beyond our sight and eventually come back for more…
Karis Louise, where did you go? Will I find you in those trees, or in that sky, or at a beach somewhere?
These are questions that perhaps only God and heaven know…
But I can tell you where Karis began.
Karis Louise…
As a new baby in the Lone Star State, first Gramma, then Papa held you before all others in the world…and it took their breath away.
Those eyes like the sea, and beautiful brown locks…that petite girl with her quiet smile, even in silence from across the room, could take our breath away.
And she did at times struggle, some moments tried, and thought, and fought for a string to pull, a button to push…for reasons to smile, to be proud, to be loved. And her passion took our breath away.
It is a world of give and take, of seeking balance, and taking leaps of faith.
A life of miracles and reasons to believe. Karis gave us Stevie, a wee one with a will as strong as a mighty river, and a heart that fluttered and blew about in the breeze. Yet he somehow more than managed to remain with us and grow stronger over time. The miracle multiplied. And it took our breath away.
There are things we face, wounds of the spirit, and injuries of our frames. Karis was no exception to life’s traumas and dramas. And over time, I witnessed her pain. Even to sit next to me there was sometimes a strain. I too have been touched by the tortures of the wounded discs and twisted frame. And we shared the couch and empathy, and it took our breath away.
Karis did smile that smile, and endure the moments and travel the miles. And she did say to me one day…in essence, that she was far too young to have grown so old. That mishaps in cars had beat her up so. She confided in me as she leaned on me…and I felt her struggle to maintain control between the relievers of pain, and the pains that accompanied relief. Both can shroud us and wick away the joys of life. And at times, I held my breath in hopes she could find relief without peril…but I came to realize what was possible for me, might not be for her. And my heart grew heavy with her suffering. And again, it took my breath away just to see her this way…
That Karis did love to give, and nurture, and protect was evident in her quests to rescue pets and people. That she had an infectious passion for doing so followed her through the years. And I have long been kept company by those critters, by her breezy ways.
And I myself was rescued at times by her kindness to this old uncle. By a quick phone call to her that always grew to an hour of grateful talk. By a text that lingered there with a buoyant message and sweetness…and I peeked at those notes time and again.
But time as it passes is not always kind. And the miracles can grow fewer, and mercies elusive. And the promises unkept by nature and chance…They mount and wait, till a collective dark cloud might visit in the night. And in this case, found her fast asleep and hopefully at peace, while it took the life breath and our Karis away.
And I’d like to believe that the person who first held her on earth, held her first in heaven too…
Karis Louise, also known as “Careless Leweegee”…I will so miss you girl. I’ll miss your sweet notes on Facebook, and your texts or calls to let me know that you’re “on Snoqualmie pass and will be at Papa’s in just a little while…”
I will miss you propping me up at times when I’ve needed propping, and hugging me when I’ve needed hugging. I will miss your unique way of saying; “I love you, Uncle Matt”.
Because Karis so loved the outdoors, the shores, the trees…the mountains and a place to run her pup (I call him “Sam-I-am”). That she loved the camp, the fishing, a chance to do a little time away from the city. She loved a bit of thinkin’, and drinkin’, and plinkin’.
Maybe there’s a time between midnight and dawn way up on the Snoqualmie Pass summits that such souls are called to. Beckoned to a celestial exit up there that takes one to a place that only God and heaven know. And perhaps I’ll call to YOU Karis, from that high pass some night to let you know that I’m on my way…
But for now, I can only sigh a sad and heavy sigh, and recall the times we shared. Those precious memories that will from now on carry both peace and a twinge in tow.
I shall revisit and will cling to them…and I say in kind, “Little one, I love you too. Get your rest, and please carry the love of an old uncle with you where you go…Say hello to Gramma for me, and know…
You took our breath away.
THE UM.
Matthew Lyle Landsman 