Friday, June 29, 2012

Stepping into the Sky

June 28 and June 29 always inspire me to reflect because these are the anniversaries of my mother's death and birth, respectively. Instead of dreading these days as I have in the past, now I welcome them. I like the calm introspection that wells up inside me. I like walking around, going about my day, with eyes that see the delicate, temporary nature of things. I like getting a rush from something as simple as inhaling deeply and sitting back in my chair and just watching, noticing, everything.


Yesterday when I was training, I embraced the fact that my 41-year-old body was breathing hard, sweating profusely and straining to "stay in the fight," as my coach says. As my heart pounded and it became harder to catch my breath, I thought of my mom, who didn't live to see her 45th birthday because her body quit on her. I relished the feeling of my beating heart and I dedicated every breath, every step, every effort to her.


She can no longer, so I will.


I am of her blood and her bone; she continues to live through me and through my sister who has since given life to three little boys who will never know our mother, but will understand how amazing she was because we will tell them stories and show them pictures. And when they're old enough to have such awareness, they'll come to understand who she was because they will recognize her influence in the way their own mother and aunt treat others and embrace life. They will say, "She must have been a remarkable woman. I wish I could have met her."


My grief is bittersweet. More than anything, I just feel tender. My heart feels weighty in my chest with a sorrow that will always be, but it's also heavy with gratitude for having Mom in my life for 19 years.


Have you ever listened to a song countless times and then suddenly one day you hear the lyrics for the first time -- I mean really hear them? That's what happened to me this morning with this song that's been on my starred playlist for months. I looked up the song lyrics today and then found a homemade video on YouTube that serves as a perfect visual metaphor for how I often feel when I think about Mom. This lonesome, dark road I sometimes travel is also wondrous and beautiful. And even though I can't see what lies ahead and there are moments of total darkness, I always find myself back on solid ground -- the lines of the road clearly marked and beckoning me to keep moving. And so I do. Gladly.   




That Knot Unties
David Karsten Daniels
If you close your eyes
do you see any sky?
If you close your eyes
can you make out any skies?



Is there a sky when that knot
that knot unties,
as you close your eyes?


When you close your eyes
will you step into the skies?

As you close your eyes
do you step into the skies?


Is there a sky when that knot
that knot unties,

as you close your eyes?


When you close your eyes
I will resist
I will not cry.
When you close your eyes
I can resist
I will not cry.


I will not try
to know why

to know why


why all things die, die, die.

3 comments:

  1. Admiring you for sharing your most intimate of thoughts that I too may be inspired to do the same. I'm reminded of a Leonard Cohen poem that struck me years ago, it lingers in my brain for me to ponder and refile on occassion. While I can't seem to wrap my head completely around its musings somehow, I can.


    The History of the World & Leonard Cohen
    by Rob McLennan

    My Mother Is Not Dead

    My mother isn't really dead.
    Neither is yours.
    I'm so happy for you.
    You thought your mother was dead,
    And now she isn't.
    What about your father?
    Is he well?
    Don’t worry about any of your relatives.
    Do you see the insects?
    One of them was once your dog.
    But do not try to pat the ant.
    It will be destroyed by your awkward affection.
    The tree is trying to touch me.
    It used to be an afternoon.
    Mother, mother,
    I don’t have to miss you any more.
    Rover, Rover, Rex, Spot,
    Here is the bone of my heart.
    (p 139, Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen)

    ....tonight I remember with tender tears family and friends gone from this world....Bill, Mom, Don, Cam, Grandma

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  2. That Knot Unties....passed along to my late husbands daughter-Julie Kay....the timing and content are just perfect for her this week.

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  3. beautifully and tenderly written katie. thanks for the lump in my throat and the smile and the reminder to "stay in the fight." love, j.

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