In Memory of Barry

 

 Barry said... “That was a surprisingly different powerful post, GingerV.  Sometimes a few carefully crafted words are better than a thousand pictures.”

What a complement.  Barry made this comment on my FSO post ‘Incongruous’ and I can remember the pride I felt that he would like how I wrote.  I like hearing from all of the FSO gang but to receive a comment from Barry was special, made my day.  I think of him as the master. 

  He used metaphor as a way of expressing his feelings, his fears, his joys as he made his way through life’s adventures. 

On July 29, 2009 soon after the cancer diagnosis, in his post ‘dreams of Lindsay’ , using metaphor, he talked of his fear of the future, fear of the pain and sickness he might have in his future, of the comfort he felt at home in front of the fire with Linda and his memories.  If we took the time to read carefully we knew exactly what he felt.  Barry wrote,

Lightning flashes and rain begins to thunder against the roof. Lindsay comes scampering out of the dark of the back office, slows to a halt at the reassuring sight of Barry and Linda in the living room, and then walks at a more dignified pace over to the fireplace.
What, me scared by a little lightning, she seems to say.
At the fireplace she begins to walk in circles, scratching periodically at the carpet. Round and round she goes scratching the carpet into a more comfortable nest, before she flops to the floor with a window rattling thump.
….A distant thunder roars and rumbles across the sky and the beat of the rain increases.
Lindsay closes her eyes and is asleep within seconds.
Barry watches her with amazement. She looks so comfortable. By now she has recognized an unfortunate change in her daily routine. No longer does Barry take her for runs, or even walks around the block. He is wrestling with a nauseating dizziness that has confined him to his chair and bed. A world swirling vertigo that shows no sign of let up or improvement.
So Lindsay has stopped reminding him that the time for her walk is overdue. She isn't happy about it, but she has come to accept it.
In her sleep, Lindsay has rolled over on her side and her legs and nose have begun to twitch. Barry notices her eyes moving rapidly back and forth. Lindsay is deep in a dream.
No longer before the fireplace, Lindsay runs the pathways of the meadow at the top of the Scarborough Bluffs. Everywhere she is enticed by fragrant scents that lead her off the path, deep into the bushes and tall grasses. Here the sun is always shining and a gentle winds ruffles the hair on her head and long floppy ears. She recalls her encounter with the coyote and the naked man, the grieving Hindi family and the fashion models. Her heart beats faster at the memories of running the beach at the bottom of the bluffs and watching a huge flock of seagulls take to the sky as she runs into the midst.
And then the telephone rings and Linda answers it. Lindsay reawakens to her place before the fire and the sound of the storm outside. She yawns and sighs and looks over at Barry, reading quietly in his chair.
Then closes her eyes once again and returns to sleep….. ******************************************************
Posted by Barry at 10:07 AM                   

 Managing to hold onto his humor, not giving in to whining about his losses, being strong in the face of great adversity, being strong for us his blog pals even as his body weakened, this is how I will remember Barry and will continue to feel honored that I was allowed to know him these last two, too brief years.