Marg’s Words for Twister’s Memorial
To most of the world he was known as Keith Honey, but I called him “Twister.” The name came to me in a ‘round about way at the tender age of two… He was muscular and strong, and had been a sailor in the Navy. He reminded me of Popeye, who smoked a pipe that would twist around and go into a can of spinach. From that twisting pipe in my imagination, “Mister Twister” came to be! (It was eventually shortened to just “Twister.”) He called me “Margatha,” or sometimes just “Tha.” I never knew how he came up with his nickname for me. I guess that’s just one more question for the afterlife!
When death took my mother and grief took my father, God blessed me with another set of parents in Little Honey and Twister. Some of my earliest memories are of Twister reading me stories, letting me walk around on the top of his shoes, and trying a sip of beer from his mug. I consider myself blessed to have lived with Little Honey and Twister in my early youth. They instilled in me a picture of normalcy, a sense of stability and the knowledge that I was loved totally, completely and without condition. They were my greatest cheerleaders, and my favorite people on the planet. Although I moved far away from Michigan to the California coast, their comfort and wisdom was always just a phone call away. These past months without them have been emotionally painful, but when I am quiet and tune into my heart, I can still hear their voices and feel their love. I hope I always will.
This Spring I planted roses for them: a “Peace Rose” for Little Honey, and an “Intrepid Rose” for Twister, the brave war hero. I didn’t plant the roses as memorials, for I know I will never forget them. I planted the roses to give me hope, because that is what I need most in their absence. When I see those roses thriving (in spite of a massive gopher colony!) I am encouraged by the fact that life goes on blooming with beauty even after it seems like all is lost.