Mother

“We would ask now of death.  And he said, you would know the secret of death.  But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? Open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.”  Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Our sweet mother, grandmother and great-grandmother passed into spirit realm on Sunday March 5, 2023.   I am dedicating this month’s writing to celebrate Mom.

Mom, how did you know when you gave me a pink tutu on my sixth birthday that I would spend the rest of my life dancing?

Every spring at our house where we lived as children the daffodils you planted along our sidewalk bloomed. 

You made sure my sister and I had pets.  You gave me the love of animals and I passed that on to my children. You were captivated when documentaries came out like Planet Earth with dazzling and up- close images of animals and their habitats.  Just a few years ago, I came by for a visit. You were in your chair crying after viewing a documentary about polar bears that were struggling to survive due to climate change.

I know you experienced great sadness and loss when at nine your beloved father died suddenly. You shared many stories about him, my grandfather that I never met.  And then when I faced my own hardships you explained that in life these times give you strength and a deep soul. You were right.

I know that we both liked to talk, but along the way I learned to listen.  I’m glad I did. I learned so much from you.  

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran sits on my desk, the book you gave me years ago.

When I was nineteen, I left you in Atlanta. I found my way to California. Gazing out at the horizon from my loft window I wrote you letters then.  To this day when I find myself near Twin Lakes Beach, I remember those times when I needed your love and encouragement offered freely in the words you wrote back to me.

I remember when you came to California and stayed for a few months. My sister, Lyn, was now in Santa Cruz and starting a new business venture in the Cooper House.  You wanted to help your daughter be successful in attaining her dream. And she did.

Then in 1995, you moved permanently to Santa Cruz. We spent time together on the cliffs at Pleasure Point.  I recalled that beautiful oil painting of the ocean in our living room back home. You used to tell me when looking at that painting that one day you wanted to live near the sea. 

You had a favorite flower, Lilly of the Valley. You told me that they grew wild in the green meadows of Sweden where your ancestors came from.

My walls and those of my family are now adorned with the many water colors of flowers you painted over the years.

In recent days when I picked you up for our lunch date, you would be there in your living room balancing on your walker with a dash of pink lipstick on your smiling lips wearing purple pants and a bright floral scarf tied around your neck.

You weren’t getting out much these days so I noticed that like a child on a fun adventure your face opened with joy at seeing the beautiful variety of the Seabright neighborhood trees and flowers.  You helped to remind me of how precious life is, especially at the age of 90. 

From your grace, generosity of spirit and wisdom, we embody your gifts for ever more, dear Mother. I could go on and on. And I will… we will go on living your legacy in the heart of life.