Does A Dove Really Cry?
I took a moment last evening before drifting off to sleep in the quiet stillness of my room to chat with my mother who had sadly passed away 21 years ago today. Pancreatic cancer robbed her of a life she was not done living. Our small close family desperately did not want to lose her, but the diagnosis proved to be a foregone conclusion. A cancer that has little hope for a cure yet claims the lives of many. Tears began to flow quite unexpectedly yet not. The many years have not diminished the great loss of an amazing mother, grandmother, and best friend…
I mentally chatted with her about some personal worries and current struggles as I still turn to her. Shared my shock and horror at the state of the world. The senseless atrocities happening daily in the Ukraine. My mother cared greatly for others and did for so many. Somehow, she understood the world at large even though she had lived on the same street the entirety of her abbreviated life. Not many people knew just how much she did for others and how many lives she touched. An extraordinary role model…
A restless night’s sleep seems to be the constant these days but upon waking this morning I noted a bird singing so clearly outside my bedroom window. Sleep still having the better part of me I initially thought it was an owl. My husband gently said, “it is a dove.” A Mourning Dove was making itself known. Singing its beautiful song. A low sweet coo greeted my day. My mother loved the sound of a dove and while I am not a particularly religious person, I do believe she sent that sign of hope and peace my way…
On my run this morning I thought about If I could have one more day with her what would I choose? A shopping trip? She was a masterful shopper. My sister and I had so many fun and memorable impromptu school night shopping trips. Is your homework done she would ask us? A quick glance back and forth between my sister and myself was confirmation enough as we eagerly replied “yes!” For my sister I am quite certain she was done with her homework but for me I was on the truthful fringe. If I wasn’t “done with my homework” I certainly was when the prospect of a shopping excursion to Wayland Square on the East Side of Providence was in the offing. Providence. Possibly a Thanksgiving Day weekend trip to NYC to see a ballet, Broadway play and Macy’s Christmas window displays? A day at our family pool where my children like many others neighborhood kids learned to swim? Homemade snacks that seemed to appear out of nowhere regardless of when we arrived. Spontaneous visits included. Daily phone calls that were sometimes numerous daily phone calls. She listened each and every time we chatted. My mom was all about her family…
I think if I could have any time back with her, I would choose the moments we shared at my kitchen table in Holliston, MA where we snacked on cheese and crackers after we returned from her ill-fated chemotherapy treatments. She knew the food she was consuming would not serve her well and it would be short lived, but it wasn’t about that. My mom just wanted the simple act of sharing this precious time together that we were both keenly aware was coming to an unacceptable end. She was uniquely selfless even in her last moments…
After my run this morning in surprisingly reasonable Vermont temperatures I showered and as I dressed for a working day in my studio, I put on my mother’s short strand of graduated pearls which a gift from my father so many years ago. I just wanted to keep her even closer to my heart today…
“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.” Emily Dickinson
