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.
`
rabbitpatchdiarycom 
I have been thinking about you and your mother. Very sad to learn about her passing. There is no doubt about it…you have had some rough times. We had a year like that once—multiple deaths, a job loss—and we were not sorry to see the end of that year. And I know exactly how you feel about having no parents. My father died first, and when my mother died, I felt like an orphan even though I was in my 50s. So strange. Anyway, my thoughts are with you during this time of grief.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh friend, I have missed you. I lost touch because my computer stopped working. Thank you so much for your kind thoughts/ I missed you and hoped all was well. love Michele
LikeLike
A new day dawn’s even in our spell of sadness..You were raised to mount the task at hand and carry on..for yourself and your family..I have no doubt the sun is shinning and the stars continue to come out at night. It’s the “Cirlce of life” of which we are all a part of.. You know I love you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
dear one-thank you How good to hear from you. On top of everything else, y computer keyboard quit on me and so I lost touch with my wp community! That will be in the next post. ou have made my day again! love love Michele I pray things are well with you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Things in my world have been crazy / aweful..I ll catch you up soon.. our friend in Iowa has had flood problems but they are safe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am so sorry your beloved Mama is gone. Thank you for writing about what you’ve been going through, because I wanted to share it. My heart is with you. I’m sending you lots of love and prayers. God bless you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sweet Anne- I missed you, in my absence.I am just getting back to an almost sort of routine, Of course, I had to get a new computer. then there were changes at WP- I am still learning how to proceed. Thank you for your loyalty, as I am slow at all of this. You are so dear to me. love Michele
LikeLike
A lot of us struggle to keep up with changes in the computer world. My fone is giving me phits right now.
I look forward to more of your peaceful and loving posts. You help keep me grounded with things that are truly important. I’m praying for deep peace for you in these summer days.
Lots of love,
Anne
LikeLike
Dear Michele, thank you for this beautiful meditation and lesson on loss and grief following the death of your dear mother. Your children are not the only ones who learn and grow from your example.
You are in my thoughts and prayers. I pray that you will stay strong, and that the grief you feel will pass as it must. Maureen xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
My goodness, your words are beautifully written in truth and hope and love. When God closes a door, he opens a window. Bless you, Michele.
LikeLike
Thank you Jennie. I have missed you. My computer quit working in the midst of everything.i could rad posts, but couldn’t type! I hope ll is well with you.’
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Michele. All is well. I hope you’re able to get your computer fixed. Summer can be a very healing time, so enjoy the season. 💕
LikeLike
Dear Sparrow:
I will not use the canned words “sorry for your loss”. I will apologize for not being nearer as you navigate this life event. I myself have developed some strange allergy to writing, and cannot force myself to sit still long enough to compose the simplest notes.
Not long after my mother died, I met a woman who shared the same loss. She said “When my mother died, it seemed like a little light had gone out of the world.” I cleaved to that phrase, and repeat it to this day, twenty years later.
In Zen philosophy, we try to teach ourselves about the value of things and the permanence of that value. The thing is not permanent, but the value it adds to our life remains after it is gone. It’s phrased as follows : “When we “lose” something, say it’s your favorite flower vase, we should consider all the joy it brought to us while we had it, not be saddened by its loss.”
It’s a bit abstract, and doesn’t exactly apply to a loved one. We cannot help but to grieve, and I am assured this is a natural thing, not created by this accursed brain, as so many other animals mourn a loss.
I can tell you that, though I can’t see or hear her, my mother remains a vibrant part of my life nearly every day. Over these two decades I have come to appreciate more and more the person my mother was unto herself, and all the ways she shaped, and continues to shape, my life.
When my son James died, twenty-five years ago, someone sent a card with a poem titled “A Native Prayer”. I recite it by rote, as it is one of the most meaningful things I have read in my life. I hope it brings you the comfort it brought me, not only a quarter-century ago, but so many times since.
I leave you this one thought to keep,
I am with you still, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am diamond glints on snow.
I am sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle morning rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of silent birds in circled in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone,
For I am with you still,
In each new dawn.
My thoughts are with you and the warren.
All my best,
Scott
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello again! I am just learninh the WP on this new computer. I am quite slow at it. You did not forget me! Your words cheer and comfort me. as always. The Native prayer was beautiful-and oddly I am studying Native American history. now. You must know, that I remain grateful for our friendship. x sparrow
LikeLiked by 1 person
One your best works Michele absolutely beautiful. Speaks to me in many ways. I am thankful that I can come to this nook to feel peaceful
LikeLike