maps from a good kingdom

I wrote the following poem in November of 2006 as my father-in-law lie in an Intensive Care Unit after on November 7th he and my mother-in-law were hit in their car by an oncoming vehicle. My father-in-law took the brunt of the impact as the other vehicle ripped off his side of their car. My mother-in-law escaped with minor injuries, horribly bruised, shaken and terrified for her husband’s life. The next day, my wife moved into the hospital with her mother and did not return home until December. I stayed home with our boys and attempted to normalize home-life; prepared meals, worked and saw the boys to and from school.  Evenings, we drove to Ann Arbor to see Grandpa, Mom and Grandma.  As he lay unconscious, our boys and our nieces hung photographs of their hero Grandpa in his room so everyone at the hospital would see in what good health he had been, how athletic he was, how much he was loved and how active he was in his children and grandchildren’s lives.   As I walked down the long hall and entered his room, there among the wires, tubes and machines keeping him alive, I saw their photographs on the wall.  The birthdays and barbecues.  The parks and zoos with Grandpa present.  And I could not imagine living them without him.  Above these hung a statue of Christ.  The imagery stayed with me that night and later, with the children in bed and my wife in another town seeing to her mother and father’s care, I turned to paper and pen in an attempt to process it all.  My wife came home in December and my father-in-law and mother-in-law did too.  And we celebrated Christmas.

Today, is my father-in-law’s 72nd birthday. Today, two and a half years later, he is active, reads everyday, walks everyday, lifts weights, golfs, sees movies and musicals and attends all of his grandchildren’s school and sporting events. And this weekend, we will eat Middle-Eastern food because it’s his birthday weekend. And the rule in our family is whoever’s birthday it is gets to pick the restaurant.  Happy birthday Russ.

ICU #2423

For Russ

By Darren King
[copyright 2009]

Here in this room
are pictures of you
and the people who love you -
you with your wife
embraced in perfect sunsets
you with your children
among the countless parks and zoos
birthdays and barbecues
shared with grandchildren who
revere you more than
Packers or Patriots.
Above these, a Cross -
Jesus in white robe,
His arms extended, His palms exposed.
Pray Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
To that misguided homily,
blessed is the womb that bore you
Jesus corrects -
blessed are they who call me family.