Continuum of Life

 

In the year 1929 on a cool autumn day on the 24^th of September my father took his first breath. The moment my grandmother held him I believe her thoughts turned to her four other sons Bud, Bob, Fred, Frank and now my dad Roger. Another rambunctious boy to add to the mix of the Shelton home.  I bet her arms ached for a little girl after losing her first born daughter Josephine, at the age of six. The house would be filled with baseballs, footballs, and muddy clothes instead of lacy dresses and bows.  That first time she held my father was 94 years ago. I have always wondered what he was like as a small child and teenager, but as a father he was perfect for me.

Continuum, repeat, revive, rejuvenate are a few words that come to mind when I think of loved ones that have passed.  My mind tries to rekindle those moments with my dad. A man who was short in stature with pudgy little fingers. Those short stubby fingers would dance across the piano keys to accompany me in my solos at high school concerts, church, and weddings. Dad aways said when we practiced, “Oh, Pam you have a beautiful voice.” Those days are gone, but the memory is implanted in me.

Memories that repeat with each generation. The birth of a new baby, the unwrapping of a granddaughter’s birthday gifts and the hugs that bring warmth that linger even after the hug is done. That word Continuum is the circle of life.  Each generation from my great, great grandparents to my great grandchildren will have memories that keep them moving forward. My father loved music and with each deep note he sang it was one with perfect pitch.  Now, my children have a love for music, even my nephews and nieces do too.

Music is the link in the Shelton family. It gives each one of us the opportunity to share something we all love. The melody, rhythm and words keep those moments we shared alive. I strive daily to recount those songs my father wrote. Songs that I have wanted to instill in my children and grandchildren. Dad would play my Aunt Dorothy’s piano while his siblings would stand around and sing the songs that they treasured and wrote. Uncle Fred was a talented guitar and harmonica player. Oh, and my dear grandpa Shelton would let me sit on his lap while he played his harmonica, and I would always place my head against his chest to hear him breathe. These memories that are cherished and never to be forgotten.

Dad, you can not read the words I write, but I hope you can see your legacy loves you. That your smile and love of music has flowed into your grandchildren, great grandchildren.  My heart aches to hear his voice, watch him play the piano and accompany me while I sing. I miss, oh how I miss having someone accompany me. I often wonder how my father felt when his parents passed. Did he feel as empty as I do? I bet he did because it’s a continuum that circle of life that repeats the loss, growth, and watching a loved one unwrap a gift meant just for them.