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Saturday, May 31, 2008

it's a good morning, oddly.

getting organized for gram's service... and the day is gorgeous, i've played in the gardens, and felt pretty connected to a lot of people. planted tomatoes and thought of gram, listened to the ship's bell i have hanging in the garden and thought of dale, listened to the owl in the tree next door and thought of sleepovers at gram and gramp's where i'd wake up and listen to the owl who lived by the corner of the house, watched the little twittie birds and thought of sitting in the den with gram and gramp, watching the birds in the bird bath, cleaned out one of my garden beds and felt happy about having my hands in green growy things.

i have two quotes that gram wrote in her journal that i'll be reading today, and to me, they all connect to this. this, this moment right here. i am alive, and grateful, sad but okay, and getting ready to go honor my grandmother.

:: scribbled at 9:37 AM ... ... o

Friday, May 30, 2008

as john hannah says, 'this is actually what i want to say.'

:: scribbled at 9:43 PM ... ... o

i was thinking this morning on the way in to work, (dangerous before coffee, i know), and for some reason, this poem came into my head.

if you haven't heard it before, it's worth listening to. (will try to find an audio clip later.) if you've ever seen Four Weddings and a Funeral, then you've seen the reading that introduced me to the poem. and John Hannah's reading still brings me to tears.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

:: scribbled at 9:09 AM ... ... o

Sunday, May 25, 2008

my grandmother died yesterday.

i'd been planning to go down this weekend, and then got the call from dad saturday morning. 'come now.' was out the door in about 7 minutes flat. worried (stupidly) about what to wear. got on the road, said a prayer for no traffic.

traffic was fine. timing was not. she passed about an hour before i got there. but - she had family with her, and it was peaceful. thank you, god, for the gift of small mercies.

my grandfather died a little over 15 years ago. i said a little prayer to him Friday night; could picture him sitting there, with a Scotch in hand, laughing about the stock market, then going to putter in his garden. 'be ready for her, please. and God, please be good to her.' i was pulling for him and my aunt to be ready and waiting to welcome gram.

i do think that the soul hangs around for a bit afterwards, after it's done with the body. she certainly wasn't there when i went in to say goodbye, but i hope she heard me. (could have been sorting out road maps, who knows.)

driving home, looking at the clouds, there was the most amazing bank of puffy clouds... with a circular opening, like at the top of a ladder to a loft. and the sun was coming thru, making a ... not halo, have you ever seen the old style christmas ornaments, with a fringe of angel hair? like that. and i knew. that was her opening, and gramp and my aunt were on the other side to welcome her.

:: scribbled at 9:56 AM ... ... o