Mike Parker: My soul - a patchwork quilt
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how I discovered the Petersens Bluegrass Band. On their latest album titled “Live Sessions Vol. 4,” several songs touched me to the heart. The Petersens’ rendition of “The Thanksgiving Song” by Ben Rector was one.
But the one that consistently brought tears to my eyes was an original by Katie Petersen about her grandfather. She and her siblings credit their grandfather as having the most profound influence on their lives, especially their love of bluegrass music. The song is titled “Hey, Grandpa.”
Katie’s song is a loving tribute to her grandfather and expresses her wish that he could be with them again. The song resonates within me on three levels. First, the song conjures up memories of my granddaddy, Clarence Parker. He was the kindest and gentlest man I ever knew.
One of my favorite memories of our time together was when he would take me to the Roanoke Dairy and treat me to his favorite flavor of ice cream: Orange Pineapple. He made me feel special as we would go off – just the two of us – on the ice cream run. Needless to say, orange pineapple became my favorite ice cream.
Granddaddy died just a few weeks short of my 11th birthday. I still recall someone taking me out of class and escorting me to the principal’s office, where my dad stood to give me the heart-breaking news. Granddaddy’s death was my first experience with a profound sense of loss.
The song also reminds me of my dad. Dad impacted the lives of my children in ways that continue to this day. I am not sure what medical condition Katie’s grandfather suffered, but these lines remind me of my father’s health struggles:
“Hey, Grandpa, what’s it like where you are now? / Is it everything we dreamed it ought to be? / I wish I could see you without the pain that took you down – / Free to run, and free to laugh, and free to breathe.”
My dad suffered from asbestosis and emphysema. Breathing was a constant issue for him. Toward the end of his life, he had a liquid oxygen tank in his house to provide the 4-liters of oxygen per minute he needed to survive. Leaving home for a doctor’s appointment was an ordeal. He was like an astronaut in deep space, forced to depend on life support.
He died a few weeks before my 50th birthday. Sara was almost 28, Rachel was 26, Lydia was 24, and Michael was 19. I have always been grateful they knew my dad when they were adults.
This song speaks to me on a third level – as a “grandpa” myself. I have 12 grandchildren on earth – and one in Heaven. One of my greatest desires is to have the type of impact on them that Granddaddy and Granny had on me.
The verse of “Hey, Grandpa” that caused me to think most deeply had less to do with grandparenting and more to do with the losses we experience in our lives. These words are the second refrain in the song:
“Now, I know you're somewhere better / And this is how it’s gotta be. / The ones we love we never really lose. / So, I’m always gonna carry a part of you in me, / But today I’ve got to say I’m missing you.”
As I heard these words, I thought that our hearts or souls must be akin to a patchwork quilt. Each time we lose someone we love, we carry a part of that person within. In addition to the pieces that remind me of Granddaddy and Granny, a piece is for Caitlyn, my granddaughter who passed away at just 13 months; a piece is for Dad; a piece is for Rebie, my mother-in-law; and a piece is for Leneave, my brother-in-law.
Other pieces are for my Uncle Bobby, Sandra’s Uncle Vance and Aunt Edna, and her Uncle John and Aunt Clyde. The latest family piece came just before Christmas when Aunt Dot, my dad’s sister, passed away.
Other pieces are friends and fellow church members who have passed – a group too numerous to mention by name.
Each one has a place in my heart and soul. They form part of my patchwork quilt. I miss them.
Mike Parker is a columnist for the Neuse News. You can reach him at mparker16@gmail.com.
