Posted by: donrhymer | June 26, 2013

I See the Moon

When I was a little girl, my mom taught me a song about the moon.  It was always comforting to me because it described the moon as something we all have in common; it seemed to make the world a smaller, less scary place.

“I see the moon, the moon sees me.

The moon sees somebody I want to see.

God bless the moon, and God bless me.

And God bless the somebody I want to see.”

I taught the song to our kids and the Gallagher kids when they were very young.  We affectionally call it “The Moon Song”, and it has comforted the kids many times over the years.

There was a full moon on the night before Don died.  I don’t remember much about that morning.  I don’t even remember who drove me home from the hospital.  Andrew?  Maybe Molly?  But I do remember coming home about 5:30 in the morning, and looking out the window of the car.  The moon was low and full and beautiful in the late November sky.  And I remember thinking to myself, “We will never look at the moon the same way again.”

The full moon has definitely taken on new meaning.  We went to the Griffith Observatory to see it a few months after Don died.   Molly has a framed poster of the phases of the moon hanging in her room.   A t-shirt with the full moon is Carrie’s new favorite.  And I suspect that one or more of my kids will have a small full moon tattoo one of these days.

So this past Saturday night was a big deal in the Rhymer house.  When the full moon is closest to the earth in it’s elliptical orbit, it’s called a “supermoon”.  It was described as the biggest, fullest and brightest moon of 2013.  In fact, I read that the moon was 16,000 miles closer than usual.  Sweet Molly sent me a text that read  “P.S. The supermoon is when the moon is closest to the earth.  Papa will be close!!”  That made me smile and cry at the same time.

There’s another “moon song” that has taken up residence in my heart.  This one, “I’ll Be Seeing You”, is comforting for a different reason.  Billie Holiday describes what I can’t even begin to put into words:  the number of times every day that I “see” Don, or am reminded of a memory; a laugh we’ve shared.  A restaurant we’ve been to.  A story about the kids.  A text from a friend telling me how much they miss him.

“I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces, all day through.

In that small café, the park across the way,

The children’s carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well.

I’ll be seeing you in every lovely summer’s day.

In everything that’s light and gay, I’ll always think of you that way.

I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new.

I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you.”

God bless the somebody I want to see.  I’ll be looking at the moon, Donald.  But I’ll always see you.




  1. Always inspirational!

  2. Okay, that destroyed us. Unbelievably beautiful reflection, Kate. Now WE will never look at the moon the same way again. Missing Don and loving you so much.

    • Agree completely. We love you Kate.

  3. My sentiments exactly… you dear friend of mine…
    When is your book coming out?

  4. It’s so funny, but I was just thinking about you last night, realizing that it had been awhile since your last posting. We were at a graduation celebration Friday night at Culver City Park and noted that amazing moon. We all have our journeys to make under that same moon. It precedes us and will remain after we are gone.

  5. I grew up with “the moon song” ninety years ago. Wonderful memories of then and of my fellow countryman, Don. Thank you Kate for sharing. Bev sends love.

  6. I thought about how bright and beautiful God’s creation was this week as the Super Moon was so bright and beautiful. This song I have loved over the years…

    I commented on FB this week about the Super Moon. No matter who or where you are we all share the same moon. Love to you Dear Kate…

  7. ah, no one makes me cry like you do, Kate

    missing Don, very glad you have the moon
    to see the “one you want to see…”

  8. God bless the moon and God bless you, Kate. Thanks for sharing.

  9. What a beautiful entry Kate! And what a beautiful family. I often think of the moon when I think of Bobby. To know he and I can be looking at the same moon at night brings me a sense of comfort. It makes me feel closer as you all do with Don. I’m sure “Goodnight Moon” was in your library at home. One of our most favorite books. From now on I too will not only think of my sweet son when I gaze at the moon, but of our beloved sweet friend Don…All of your entries are wonderful, but this was a real goodie. Now I’m going to go sit on the sofa with my Kleenex box and have a good cry. xoxo

  10. Kate… I want to comment..just want it personal..btw.. Hello.. I am Stephanie..I don’t know if you have disabled Don’s E-mail or his phone…. so I won’t go there… but would like to share stories.. if not.. thats ok too… but wanted you to know he is missed and loved

  11. So beautifully written, Kate. This one took my breath away. You see, that first night after Don left us, Jim and I were getting ready to travel to you the next morning. We looked up at the gorgeous moon, and decided that God had already given Don a new job: to be the man in the moon, to smile down on all of us, to watch over all of us. Nate agreed. And we’ve held on tight to that idea, as it brings us comfort to feel his presence. Little did we know that you all were thinking that very same thing. Sending all our love to you.

  12. Miss Kate,
    Your writing is so beautiful and so visually articulate; I feel as though you are sitting across from me, hands clasped around coffee mugs, speaking as only girlfriends do. I am a stranger to you, but you are no longer a stranger to me. In fact, I am so moved by what you have written here, (as well as in previous posts), that I feel a bit weighted by your heaviness.
    As you grieve the egregious, a personal loss such as this can strip the marrow from your bones, leave you bereft and untethered. But time is your friend, and perspective your savior. Perhaps the greatest gift you can now give your husband is (to) simply – Live. Don’s legacy, in part, will be found in his family, in your voice, in your strenghth, and in the steps you take today…into tomorrow.
    Kate, I am so very sorry for your loss and pray gentle peace in the days to come. And while his physical presence has faded, so long as you hold but a single memory ~ Don remains alive. Speak to him, and of him, often. Share him. Share his stories, share his vision, share his laughter, and share yourself. Don’t be afraid, (or ashamed), to share your pain ~ allow yourself to be loved. A trusting hand that reaches out finds grace in many forms. Trust and believe in that which you can only feel; He is there for you.
    May the retrospective of your life be filled with joy, and purpose, and heroic notions. Be at peace Miss Kate, tomorrow is waiting.
    ~ Abbe

  13. Kate: Thanks again for sharing your heart, reminding us of Don and others we miss. I also want to say, I think again, what a wonderful writer you are – a gift that perhaps you are also discovering. Love to you.

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