Love At Last
Who Am I: Who I Am. Aºtlas of My Heart
"Mom, are you afraid?"
I stood in the hallway following my mother into the home I had grown up. The family move brought us from Colorado to a house nestled in the Escondido valley. A place surrounded by orange groves, avocado groves, fields, and cow pastures. A herd still crossed the outer town roads when I had walked the 2.5 miles to high school for four years.
The memories flooded back of our nightly family band practice and the supportive neighborhood listening to our music. Of the times our family spent the early evenings out at The San Diego Wild Animal Park stretching through the San Pasqual Valley, wandering through the hiking trails and enjoying the freedom of the open African savannah-like setting with the herds of animals interacting behind the one safari fence enclosure. Then as night fell, watching the limbo dancers with flaming fire torches perform and listening to the the calypso steel drum band.
This was the second time I had come to visit this year. My mother had been given the prognosis of 6 months earlier in this year. Her five-year remission from cancer had changed. Now, it was about spending precious time together, her and I and my little daughter, her first grandchild - now just 2 years old.
“Mom, are you afraid?” I asked. My mother did not seem surprised at my question. She stopped walking, turned, and paused to consider my question for a couple seconds. The air became so still, as if time itself had stopped. I wished I could take my query back, feeling immediately sorry that I had spoken so rashly.
Which way [THROUGH] this?
Mom answered me in a serious but comforting voice,
"No, Ginger. I know who my Heavenly Father Is."
I shall be ever grateful for that Saturday in August of 1997. My mom and I spent the entire day talking of everything that mattered to us. Hours and hours and hours flew by.
without words
The Last Performance my mom, my sister and I watched together ~
Yanni LIVE at The Acropolis, featuring Karen Butler - violinist
This performance still takes my breath away. No words necessary.
places we go when it's beyond us #4
awe
wonder
confusion
curiosity
interest
surprise
When we feel awe,
we tend to simply stand back and observe,
to provide a stage for the phenomenon to shine.
August 19, 1997
I stood before my kitchen window as the sunset began on the last day I shared earth's ground with my mother. She passed at 7:04 a.m. My father called at half past to let me know. Brokenness. The day was dull. I felt flat. The hiccup of space between the hope of a last minute miracle of healing and the final breath spent.
Which way [THROUGH] this?
My day's work finished. My daughter fast asleep in her bedroom. I finish my chores in the kitchen and as I look out the window I saw a spectacle forming in the sunset sky. I begin to cry. The tears falling softly, just rolling down my face. I instantly knew this sunset is meant just for my mom. The color the same red as her bass guitar and the ruby skies just kept getting more and more brilliant with every successive moment. A full sky painting of magnificence colours. The vividness of the ruby red, the deep peach fire, and the neon purple edging was extraordinary. The clouds were patterned in what we always called a mackerel sky extending from horizon line to the heavens.
"Dear Father in Heaven, I see it! This one's for Mom! You're making this just for Mom! It's beautiful! Just beautiful! This is ruby red skies. This is Irene's Sky! For her! This is in remembrance of Mom! "
The depth of understanding that the Almighty God knew my mother Irene had passed and my sorrow was astonishing. And my tears streamed. And fell. And I talked to God the entire time. Thanking Him, crying with Him, laughing with Him, being comforted by His Presence. A God of All Comfort. Until finally the deep plum night sky turned to complete blackness with only a faint glow of the ocean in the distance. It is finished. Irene's Sky Show.
awe
wonder
confusion
27 years ago on August 19, 1997
Irene's Sky happened.
Love At Last.
Signed,
Our Father In Heaven
This is the Way through.
I have never seen a sunset as Brilliant or as Beautiful since.
curiosity
interest
surprise
Call it recovery or learning to love carefully, or living by thoughtfulness, or being an artistic recluse, sometimes it is hard to join family functions. I no longer live in a deranged dysfunctional family atmosphere, but I still appreciate times of solitude. Space to think, to plan, to write, to create. I think it is strange that creatives have a deep desire for camaraderie and social interaction, but our skillset requires us to be alone (a lot). And, aloneness can become a habit.
Marble Creek & a Horse and Wagon Tunnel
The lower Salmon River is not as spectacular as the streams of the Colorado Rockies where I was born, but it is still the great outdoors. Exploring along the old highways, leading up to the high ground where the elk hunters frequent, is a good hike. Battling the bees and searching for dried up huckleberries is even fun with family.
The best part is seeking a tunnel cave that can only be spied from one direction along the roadway. Missing the cave on the way up to Marble Creek had us particularly paying attention on the way back, every corner and switchback, full eyes on.
Finally, there it was! A deep black hole right off the roadway surrounded by overgrowth and trees, but with a rocky path leading to the opening. The shoulder of the highway formed just enough of a pull-off parking area. No sign, no mile marker. Just a beckoning opening.
Armed with flashlights, pencil lights, and two headlamps, our family of 11 disembarked from our vehicle and stopped in front of the entrance to the cave. The tunnel slightly curved midway, so the other end was not visible. The overhead rock ceiling was about 50 feet high with reinforcements of timbers and boulders. I have been in cavern systems before in Colorado and New Mexico, so I knew I would not be seeing stalactites. Yet, darkness is not very inviting.
Whoops and hollers and lots of giggles and a panicked, 'It's too dark!" from the 4 year-old. We entered in single file, adults at lead and rear guard with all the shorter ones between. It was dry and cool, a nice reprieve from the outside 90° temperature. No trash, no graffiti. Delightful! Without flashlights it would be totally black and one would be unable to maneuver without being on hands and knees on the jagged rock floor.
The tunnel was created n the early 1900's specifically for horse and wagon deliveries of supplies to the loggers and railroad workers working on the upper mountain areas. The tunnel cave is only about 150 feet in length, but it has a massive height and berth. Reaching the far end: victory. Then, time to turn around and go back to the entrance. The tunnel/cave challenge: mastered!
“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen.” – Rene Daumal
This Way Through.
SKOOKUMCHUCK
Our stop at a river side beach with sand was a day's end reward. Sandy feet, my favorite way of life {born in Colorado, but the southern California beach girl lasts a lifetime}.
The Gift of Family
I could have stayed home and prepped a canvas for a new painting, but I experienced something far better and rewarding: leaving aloneness and creating family memories of being together. This is what matters. This is the way through.
And, this is what long term recovery looks like for me.
God bless those who are sober and may God bless those who are destined to become sober.
G.S.
The 4 / 4 Letters: Love Locks, Love Traveler, Love Starlight, Love At Last
Thank you for commenting so kindly. 🌼
Beautiful remembrance of your mom. And yes, I crave being alone to create; it is a balance that needs to be administered to carefully. Thank you for these beautiful words.