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Posts tagged ‘mother’

Haiku and Loku Days-Threads of Sorrow

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

As the SSB Drever and I were heading from the house toward the garage to leave for a morning walk, I looked across to see my neighbor standing in her yard. I said hello. We each walked closer to the fence to talk, I with The SSB in tow.  I sensed something was not right. As she reached the fence, instead of facing me, her body aligned with her gaze, looking far off and away, searching.

“Jo, is your mother alive?” she asked.

“No. She died a little over two years ago,” I answered.

“My mother just died.”  She paused. “Does the pain ever end?”

I paused.

“It, it gets better,” I responded, as tears welled, hers and mine.

I listened. Her words spilled out with her tears as she told of her mother’s journey of deterioration and death, of her qualities and quirks, memories of younger years. I echoed back to her my experience. We shared the emptiness that we felt with the passing of our mothers. Her mother was just past 64. Mine was three days short of 97. There never is a good age or a good time to lose your mother. We talked of people knowing it was their time to go, of the souls waiting to receive them, and of connections to the spiritual realm. She had cared for her mother those last months, weeks, days and moments. She knew her mother would be waiting for her, to care for her. It gets better.

Threads of Sorrow

Take threads of sorrow.
Weave with remembrance. Draped, soft,
Solaced tomorrows.
 
 
 
Portrait of Anna Akhmatova by Nathan Altman 1914

Portrait of Anna Akhmatova by Nathan Altman 1914

 
 
 

Haiku and Loku Days-Planting Seeds, Planting Memories

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

 

March 8th was the second anniversary of my mother’s death.  I was with her the last days of dying before the final breath, It was a painful death. My memories of her and the parts of our journeys in our lives that over-lapped are a mix of joy and pain. March is 8th is painful.

Less time this year was spent in tears. Much more of it in joy. I spent the day at my daughter’s house with her and her two children -Asher almost 4 and Parisa who just turned 2. We were continuing with part 2 of our gingerbread train project. The goal is to have this finished by Asher’s 4th birthday. There is not much time left.

I had a wonderful day, a joyful day. And any day I think of those two little people, I cannot help but smile. I want as many happy memories as I can get and as many as I can help plant for my grandchildren. I want to be a part of making their childhood better than my own and better than I could give my own children.

Memories-part of the connection between the generations. They are an intricately knotted cord of the macrame of the DNA of our lives holding us as we, our souls, hang in, hovering in this realm. They connect us to those who have returned to the spiritual world and those yet to come.

I planted seeds of gingerbread, of hugs and kisses, of play and laughter for myself and hopefully for them. And maybe, it will be a link between my mother and my grandchildren.

 

Planting Seeds, Planting Memories

 

dahliaGardens.jpg.

 
Memories. I know   
 
I want, need to plant seeds.                  
 
New memories grow.

 

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