I want to thank my Busse family for all the kind responses to Barb's passing. No finer tributes could hsve been offered for king or queen.
After the viewing the family came together for a brief snack and remmemberance. After all the family had their say, I had to break out the laptop. How amazed her family was by reading the replies to Jerry's post and the PMs and emails that I recieved. They couldn't believe the heart felt sympathy from so many folks across the word. All were truely touched by the pix and stories from Blade and Knob Creek. The pride she showed in being inducted and be "The Original Knife Wife was the honor of her life.
By the way, I wrote the following after a brief absence from her bed side the last week. Maybe syrupy or wussie, but it's part of my memory of her.
As I was driving home from Hospice, I was thinking about what I had to do in the short time I had to be separated from my wife. I had to care for our three dogs, put in a load of laundry, get cleaned up and get right back to her bedside. Even though she was getting the very best care and had family and friends near her, I wasn’t there every minute as I felt I should be.
On the short drive back to the hospice facility, this came to me.
Barb is like chalk. Seems kind of funny doesn’t it. Chalk? Why chalk?
Chalk is mined in coarse slabs. Used in so many different ways.
Chalk is used to make wonderful sculptures; though stone, it still could be sculpted and shaped. It’s used to make some incredible artwork by blending the subtle shades. It’s used every day to teach our children life’s lessons. It’s ground to the finest powder to bind medicines together.
The one thing that cannot be done with chalk is remove the sign that it was there. From the snow white paths from the chalk mines, to the hand print of a child in school, chalk leaves it mark.
So has Barb. She has left her mark on so many people in so many ways.
Barb was sculpted by her family, friends, and life’s trials and tribulations. She could be counted on to be the shoulder to lean on or cry on, or she’d cry with you.
While not blessed with children of her own, Barb saw every baby as a gift from God to be treasured. Whether it was a niece or nephew, a friends child, or children from far away countries, each one held a special place in her heart.
Barb held our marriage together in so many ways. Always there to support me, sometime to steer me, often times to remind me what I ‘should’ be doing.
Barb has truly left her mark on us all.
Rest with the angels, my mate