‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’
And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?
I had a dream-a lovely dream,
Of her that in the grave is sleeping.
I saw her as ’twas yesterday,
The bloom upon her cheek still glowing;
And round her play’d a golden ray,
And on her brows were gay flowers blowing.
With angel-hand she swept a lyre,
A garland red with roses bound it;
Its strings were wreath’d with lambent fire
And amaranth was woven round it.
I saw her mid the realms of light,
In everlasting radiance gleaming;
Co-equal with the seraphs bright,
Mid thousand thousand angels beaming.
I strove to reach her, when, behold,
Those fairy forms of bliss Elysian,
And all that rich scene wrapt in gold,
Faded in air-a lovely vision!
And I awoke, but oh! to me
That waking hour was doubly weary;
And yet I could not envy thee,
Although so blest, and I so dreary.
***
The post above, including the artwork, and poem selection - was taken from my lovely friend Izabella's blog. Her blog is full of extraordinary artwork and poetry. If you spend some time there, soon enough you will begin to wonder if you yourself are awake, or dreaming. It seems she endeavors and succeeds in creating an etherial world for us, full of the agonies and sorrows of life - as well as the angels and joy that abounds.
All day I was trying to figure out what to write today, and how to write it - and then I stumbled upon Bella's post. And there they were. The perfect words. Thank you Bella.
***
Today is my mother's birthday. She would have been 60 years old. My brother and I were equally anxious about and resigned to the occasion of this day. He called me early, we acknowledged the date, and then decided to get together, just us - and our sons. My ten year old RJ, and Adin, now just over a year old. My husband stayed home to work in the backyard, and my sister in law stayed home and caught up on some work she'd brought home from the office.
Jesse and I, and RJ and Adin. We sat and talked about nothing. The boys played, RJ chasing after Adin (who ran away from his cousin with those quick wobbly toddler steps).
Suddenly I turned to Jesse and asked - "Do you think I look like her?" He didn't have to ask who I meant.
"Yeah. Yeah, a little. You do."
"You know, sometimes I look in the mirror - and I see her. Like from the side, or from certain angles. Suddenly I see her - it's so weird. It always startles me. It takes me by suprise."
"Yeah." He said, nodding.
SIblings are so nice. There are certain times in life when you know - no one in the world will understand exactly what you mean - except for a sister or brother.
***
In truth, the aniversary of her death and Mother's Day are usually more difficult than her birthday. Still, 60 seems a milestone. It sounds young, and old a the same time. Enough years to have lived a life, and not enough for it to have been over.
***
I love this stanza, in the poem from Bella's blog:
I saw her mid the realms of light,
In everlasting radiance gleaming;
Co-equal with the seraphs bright,
Mid thousand thousand angels beaming.
That's how I picture her. That's what I want to believe. That she is comforted now. Wrapped now in light, and beauty.
***
~ Happy Birthday Momma. I wish for you now, and for life everlasting - that you be mid thousand angels beaming. ~
PS - If anyone reading this post suffers from untreated depression or thoughts of suicide, there is help available. Don't give up. Try calling a hotline, talking to medical doctor, a counselor or clergy. You ARE worth it.
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