“Tout Ce Qui Monte Doit Converger….” (“Everything that rises must converge”—-Tielhard de Chardin)
Pencil and watercolor
May 2022
$150 (please pm or email terrydraw@aol.com if interested in purchase
My 83 year old father died, suddenly and (apparently) painlessly two weeks ago. ….on his own front porch, having just returned from lunch with my mother and younger brother. Yesterday, a memorial service was held for him in town, at Munsey Memorial Church (yes, it seems the Methodists got him, in the end). Munsey has been the center of his life for at least 25 years…..missionary trips to Macedonia ( I kept my mouth shut, but I’m still pretty sure he never converted any of our Orthodox brethren to prosaic Methodism), numerous outreach programs for the poor and dispossessed in this region, and, above all, his work with “The Melting Pot”……which, run out of the basement of Munsey, feeds an enormous number of our homeless every week. All in all, a good man doing readily identifiable, good work. I can’t recall having ever discussed theology or liturgy with him; he had no time for or interest in such impractical pursuits.
After the Memorial service, everyone (including two men in their late seventies who, having been in the orphanage with both my parents, flew in from Arizona for the event) piled over to my younger brother’s house. It was a wonderful day…..and, yes, my mother was genuinely happy/content.
I started this picture the day after Father died, and I happily finished it today. The accompanying poem is, of course, by Tennyson.
” Crossing the Bar”
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.”
——-By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1889