Woodward Park

I spent some time this afternoon cleaning some of the brush from the little creek that runs through Woodward Park.

The park is still filled with debris and downed limbs from the ice storm here in Tulsa in mid-December. And I thought I'd clear up a little in that little creek that Momma took me to when I was oh so young. I'd put a boat made of twigs or leaves, or perhaps a thong, in the little rivulet and nurse it along with shouts of glee until it finally made its way down to the pond.

I don't think there's a single memory I have of very early childhood that is as sweet and poignant as that of this little rivulet and Momma smiling at me playing with little boats and thongs in that little runlet.

Yet I remember ... when, last summer? Or spring? ... when we would go to Woodward Park and she said something ... a couple of times ... that I had no idea about. That Momma's mind was much weighted down, often it seems, when we went to Woodward Park ... because this was the period when he was often out, philandering with other women.

Oh Momma ... oh Momma ... oh God ... that such things should be ... but oh Momma ... that in spite of such things you took such good care of me and my sister ... and brought us joy at Woodward Park ... despite those dark clouds in your heart and mind.

What is there to say ... nothing really ... as in that vignette in Whitaker Chambers, about the woman in post-war Berlin's devastation ... walking down the street with tears streaming down her face ... and no one said anything ... not out of cruelty or indifference but simply because her tears were tears of a univeral tragedy that engulfed everyone ... what was there to say ... ?

Except perhaps

Oh Lord Jesus Christ have mercy have mercy have mercy on us all

I love you and miss you so so so so so so much Momma ... oh God how do people make it through this ... why the hell should I want to make it through this ... oh Momma how I wish you were here ... oh God how I miss my Momma so so so so much ... oh God ...

I wiped and cleaned your grave marker this morning, Momma ... and the dog and I went for a walk in Woodward Park. She chased the squirrels ... and oh I could see you sitting with a smile on your face watching Spooky chase the squirrels ... oh Momma nothing is right wtihout you here ... oh God oh Momma oh Mommma everything's wrong without you here ... oh I miss you so much Momma I miss you so .... oh God ...

Oh Lord Jesus please please please please of Your Mercy take good care of my good good Momma ...

Oh Momma oh Mary oh Joseph oh Jesus

Charles Delacroix
Eve of the 1st Sunday in Lent