Ryan’s Last Rhyme
By Mike Musgrove
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
² to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
³ and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Sometimes the places we find hope and purpose in the work we do are the sad places when hurt and loss bring us together. Together to share our pain, to cry, to realize that we are not alone.
In August I wrote a story about Sam who shared his poem about the Olive Branch. Sadly, Sam passed away, peacefully, in the hospital on February 17th. A week later we all gathered to share stories, poems, pray and support each other.
Last time, I visited with Sam he came up to my office to read me some poems. Sam wrote his life in poems. The pain. The joy. The times he laughed. The time he lost his wife. He wrote about being sick and suffering, and about hilarious observations. He wrote about absolution and entering God’s pearly gates. It is all there written in all the colours of the rainbow and every colour in between.
Then he handed me three poems: “My Chums at SUMS”, “Extending the Olive Branch”, and “Ryan’s Last Rhyme”. Sam’s last name to my surprise, wasn’t Rhymes, but Ryan. The poems, like every poem he gives away were written in multiple colours and laminated.
“These are for you.” He spoke. The mood turned somber.
“What? For me? Why?” I often am shocked, maybe perplexed by the trust our guests have in me. This moment felt different than the other times Sam had handed me poems. It was heavy. It hurt. Our eyes welled.
‘You might find a time to share them soon.”
“Oh Sam.” The realization that Sam’s health kept deteriorating and his pain kept increasing entered the room and sank into my chest. “Thank you. They are beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He left.
On the 24th of February. We read all three poems. Each poem made us smile, tear up, think about priorities, and brought us together.
Lynn shared a poem.
Glenn didn’t share his poem, but said Sam wrote it about his sickness and pain and it made him feel better.
Barton said that his poetry should have made him famous.
Louie sang a prayer.
Roopi summed the memorial up saying, “I know we are all sad about Sam dying, but look at this room, we are all together. It is amazing to see how something so horrible could become something so beautiful.”
It really was incredible. Our Heavenly Father is the Master at creating beauty from ashes.
The memorial ended with prayer and the reading of “Ryan’s Last Rhyme”
The words are coming out like vapour,
But frankly, I just ran out of paper.
Goodbye Sam. From all of us.
