A New Star Shines Tonight

A New Star Shines Tonight

Suzanne Marsh

Although there are sad moments in time, there are also wonderful moments in time. I was seven years old and at best a very inquisitive child. I was in bed when the phone rang. I could hear dad's voice saying:

“We will be there tomorrow afternoon. Yes, we will meet you at mom's. Okay John.” I had no idea of what had happened. I turned over and went to sleep. The next morning, mom was packing while dad made train reservations going to Brooklyn, New York. I remember boarding the train, with my parents. Mom looking very stolid and dad with tears in his eyes. Earlier that morning dad told me that Grandma H passed away. That was something I really did not understand. I barely remember Grandma H other than she always had a white enamel pan on the stove with prunes stewing. I do however remember going to the funeral home with mom and dad. I remember seeing Grandma, in a pale blue gown, her steel gray hair piled high on her head and red lipstick. She seemed to be sleeping, I just didn't understand it was a permanent sleep.

Later that night, dad took me for a walk, back then it was safe to walk the streets of Brooklyn, now I don't think I would wish to. Dad, asked me if I understood about Grandma, I nodded my head, and began to cry. Dad, stopped walking. He spoke so softly:

“Sue Sue, do you see that extra bright star right up there? Well, when someone passes away, like Grandma, a new star appears in the sky. She is looking down on us, and smiling.”

I nodded and thought about what dad said. Seven is a very young age to deal with death, but I never forgot what dad had said. A star so bright in the heavens, that stuck in my mind.

Fast forward to 1978, my mom passed away. I was twenty seven. The two younger girls did not go to mom's funeral. The eldest went to the viewing. She was only there a few moments. I did not want of my daughters to have that as the last memory of their grandmother. Her face as still as stone, no laughter no stories. I cried, that night I took the eldest daughter out side and told her the story my dad had told me. Then I took the younger two, changing the story just a tad. I told them as I pointed to the stars, that grandma was in heaven, where she would be happy. That bright star I also told them was grandma smiling down on them. I pointed out the big dipper and Orion, for the life of me I still can't find the little dipper to save my life. Dad had taught me to find those constellations. Over the years I have always found the north star comforting. It is terrible that I still can't tell north, south, east and west, since my husband is a truck driver.

1997, my father-in-law passed away. He was a very sweet man. I remember sitting outside on a settee with my husband. My father-in-law up in his hospital room. He had always been a very vigorous man, to see him in that hospital bed knowing that very soon he would be the next star in the sky. We sat staring up at the stars. Tears were welling in my husband's eyes. It was then I remembered the story that dad had told me:

“When I was about seven dad's mom passed away. I think dad told me this story so that I

wouldn't be afraid. You see, when someone passes away, a bright new star appears. That

star will always follow us. That is how I will remember your dad.”

I am not sure that it helped but, I don't think it hurt either. It gave him something to think about. Once again that held me in good stead.

Time has a way of flying by, no matter what season of life you have entered. Dad entered the winter of his life a great deal quicker than I would have liked. The phone call about eight o'clock in the morning, it was a friend of dad's:

“Your dad is having a heart attack, what should I do?”

My eyes began to well with tears:

“Call an ambulance!”

I was becoming rather agitated, I couldn't lose my temper:

“Call me back as soon as you call the ambulance.”

Which she did:

“Your dad is gone.”

I tried holding it together, as I thanked her for calling. I called the hospital:

“My dad does not wish to be resuscitated, that was his wish.”

My heart broke that day, as I thought about my dad. His smile, his blue eyes alight with mischief. The time he shot an arrow through the basement window, how we had to repair it before mom got home. My dad taught me a great deal, more than I ever realized. With all these thoughts going through my mind, my husband, who was crying along with me, looked over at me:

“better call the airlines, we have to go home.”

I called every airline nothing, apparently spring break had precedent. Booked solid. So then I called several car rentals in the Houston area. We needed one that would pick us up. We headed toward the terminal in Houston. I found that one car company did not leave the state of Texas, one allotted three states. Finally, I hit on one that covered all lower forty eight, glitch of the year we had to go to them. I got directions, we had to disconnect from the trailer, bobtail over to where the car rental agency was. Then I followed my husband back to the terminal. We basically threw things into the duffel bag. Locked up the tractor. We drove straight through from Houston, Texas to Buffalo, New York in fifteen hours. We stopped in Kentucky for a few hours of sleep.

There was no time to even go outside. I had to plan the funeral, I had to notify relatives. The list was exhausting. Once the details were completed, it was almost six o'clock in the evening. The snow was still on the ground. I once more went out side and looked up at the stars knowing my dad was looking down at me and was proud.