A new season looms ahead. . . an unfamiliar  one for me.  There are no “short cuts in this place.  Instead, one must wander through without any sense  of direction. It is a season of dense shade and brambles. . .It is the first season of my life without parents, for Mama passed just over a week ago. 

It makes no difference that I myself am older now and  we all knew, it would happen. 

It is comforting to know that Mama was spared much of the suffering, that could have been and my heart is full to the brim with gratitude for the abundance of love she had  been shown since  the  first days of her illness.   . . .We had time to prepare, too,but even with my  own very wild imagination . . . I am bewildered.   

I spent the biggest part of the the last six months at Mamas’ house.  I have been at the rabbitpatch on Bonnet Street. but a few days.  I learned some hard but beautiful lessons during that time.  I  can not fail to mention, the significance of these things, nor the Divine Source of them. . .God did not give me visions, nor prophesy, instead He gave me truth and  courage, which are tremendous  gifts -and invaluable.  I have concrete examples  of how these lessons  were imparted, that are tucked in my heart.

Certain things in life are just inevitable. Fame, nor fortune, nobility nor intellect do not prevent  loss and grief.  As it is written, “The rain falls on the just . .and the unjust.”  The art of recovery may be  one of the most important  things to teach our children.    I have thought about this a lot, these last few years. 

All was going well, til Daddy died. That remains one of the hardest things, that I ever had to bear.  A short while later, I had to sell my beloved farmhouse surrounded by old oaks, and dear neighbors.  A year later, my job  of twenty three years ended.  Then Mama got sick.  Thankfully, my parents and grandparents helped me learn about disappointment, as a child. 

The still-born colt, would not stand. The kitten could not come in the house.  Sunday clothes would always be itchy and cookies crumbled, often and quite unfairly.  .all fragments of great lessons. 

My own children, all grown now, had an abundance of the same sort of lessons.  And I am well aware, that even now, they are still learning  and on a much larger scale, what to do with somber times.  My actions matter to me . . for they  will be  observed by my dearest ones.  My ways  will speak and should honor   the inheritance bestowed upon me by our elders, now passed. 

Mamas’ passing reminded me that there was one less person , left in this world, that knew  the ways of our elders.   . .the sound of their voices   .  . and one less person, to “tell the story” , of  who created our family.  The hard work and sacrifices they made, still matter.  Goodness,  I miss everybody!   

I am staying busy, doing the things that I love. I have made pasta, butter and yogurt., this past week.  I am taming the yard that was left mostly, to its’ own  devices.  There is also a lot of business recently. 

I think a lot.  The event of loss, seems to force one to think  greater ideas-profound thoughts that pop up with ease, suddenly, now.  Clarity is increased and so is understanding.  So many things are revealed . When  the world is dimmed,  our focus is sharpened with  precision, and much can be accomplished. Priorities  in my life, seem to scream out, imploring me to “stay the course”.   

The “time to mourn”  is more than just a tragic time.  Something beautiful can spawn from it.  The sense of loss, is but a part of it, for  we  are hardly saddened by  loss except when we feel love and gratitude, in the first place.  Recognition of  a precious blessing, has value -and needn’t fade with time,  Faith can flourish, or be born, depending on ones’ circumstances.  . . and so. I have hope . . and assurance . .even though the world seems lonelier now that Mama left. 

It always does, when a mother dies.  

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