Tuesday, May 14, 2019

A Mother is not always birthing a child....

Another Mothers Day has gone and mine was
almost perfect, only one thing could have made it better,
having Gypsy baby and her Wife, Del with us.
As perfect as it was, I had have been having lots of thoughts lately.
A little sad, thinking of My Mom, DaBoo's Mom, Ms. Barb
all spending Mothers Day in whatever life is after this one.
Listening to an audiobook, a famous one,
FAHRENHEIT 450 BY RAY BRADBURY.
As I listen to this after the crawfish boil on Mothers Day,
driving to the boo's house I am hit with a wave of
tears as I hear this paragraph:
"...MY GRANDFATHER DIED...
HE WAS A VERY KIND MAN WHO HAD A LOT OF 
LOVE TO GIVE THE WORLD, AND HE HELPED...
HE MADE TOYS FOR US, DID A MILLION THINGS 
IN HIS LIFETIME... WHEN HE DIED, I SUDDENLY
REALIZED I WAS NOT CRYING FOR HIM AT ALL,
BUT FOR ALL THE THINGS HE DID. I CRIED
BECAUSE HE WOULD NEVER DO THEM AGAIN.
HE WOULD NEVER CARVE ANOTHER PIECE OF
WOOD OR HELP US RAISE DOVES... OR PLAY THE
VIOLIN THE WAY HE DID. HE WAS AN INDIVIDUAL.
HE WAS AN IMPORTANT MAN. I'VE NEVER GOTTEN OVER
HIS DEATH. OFTEN I THINK WHAT WONDERFUL CARVINGS
NEVER TO COME TO BIRTH BECAUSE HE DIED. HOW MANY
JOKES ARE MISSING FROM THE WORLD... THINGS
UNTOUCHED BY HIS HANDS. HE SHAPED THE WORLD.
HE DID THINGS IN THE WORLD. THE WORLD WAS
BANKRUPTED OF TEN MILLION FINE ACTIONS THE NIGHT
HE PASSED ON...
EVERYONE MUST LEAVE SOMETHING BEHIND WHEN HE
DIES... A CHILD, A BOOK OR A PAINTING OR A HOUSE...
SOMETHING YOUR HAND TOUCHED SOME WAY
SO YOUR SOUL HAS SOMEWHERE TO GO WHEN YOU DIE,
AND WHEN PEOPLE LOOK... YOU'RE THERE.
IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT YOU DO...
SO LONG AS YOU CHANGE SOMETHING FROM THE WAY
IT WAS BEFORE YOU TOUCHED IT INTO SOMETHING
THAT'S LIKE YOU AFTER YOU TAKE YOUR HANDS AWAY...
GRANDFATHER'S BEEN DEAD FOR ALL THESE YEARS,
BUT IF YOU LIFTED MY SKULL...
YOU WOULD FIND THE BIG RIDGES OF HIS THUMBPRINT.
HE TOUCHED ME...
'STUFF YOUR EYES WITH WONDER' HE SAID
'LIVE AS IF YOU WOULD DROP DEAD IN 10 SECONDS
SEE THE WORLD. IT'S MORE FANTASTIC THAN ANY
DREAM...ASK FOR NO GUARANTEES, ASK FOR NO
SECURITY...'
And with that very long paragraph, written many years ago
I realize, this is why I miss my Mother, the Boo's Mother,
they left a thumbprint not only in my mind but in my heart.
I cry right there on the ferry. I feel better after that good cry.
When I get to the Boo's house, I try and explain this paragraph,
Why I spend so much time talking, playing laughing with the
grand girls, why I use my collections instead of just storing them.
Why nothing is off limits to the little fingers that
grasp at things in the cottage.
I try to explain, that once I am gone, I cannot take these things
with me, but I can make memories with them,
I can leave thumbprints in their  little hearts,
in the hearts of all those I love, my children, my ex and his wife,
all those I come across. For all those that I paint portraits of
their homes, not just to paint a home on slate, but to make
it more than that. So that when I am gone, people will remember
that I didn't just breathe the oxygen as all the rest but
I tried to live my life as to make an impression on this world.
I don't know if I did a good job with my explanation
as I laid in his arms as he is quiet through my story.
Then when I get home yesterday, this graduation card is 
waiting in my mailbox.


And I realize, yes I have left some thumbprints in this world.
This little girl, graduating from college, was one of my PreK 
students when I was school nursing. There were many days
she cried for her Mommy, wanted to go home.
There were days that I went get the crying beautiful red head child
from her class and rocked her, played as her Mother in hopes
to ease some of her pain from being seperated from her Mommy.
She was one of my 1200 children in that school and I was
her school nurse for three years. Many times she came to me
to see if she was "sick enough to go home" as she
always rathered her Home to school.
I would check her out, assure her that she was healthy enough
to stay at school, I would give her a magic peppermint that
always helped so many children to get through the days of school.
10 years have passed and this little girl, remembers me.
She is now 18 and my card comes not at Mrs. Lilly or Lilly Riera
but simply "Nurse Lilly"
I have made a thumbprint on her heart.
Just as another graduation card, for KD's little cousin
addressed to MUMSIE
I have made another thumbprint.
As I absorb all of this, I pray on Mothers Day after I am
gone from this Earth, my children and my grandchildren
those who have known me will not be sad but remember
all those things we did, all the memories we made
be what they miss and in that loss they make a path 
to follow it in some way as to leave their own
thumbprints on the next generation.
For, really is this not all that really matters?
Loving each other for all it's worth not to be the "sloth"
that Ray Bradburn writes about
"... KNOCK THAT SLOTH RIGHT OUT THAT TREE
WHERE IT HANGS UPSIDE DOWN, SLEEPING IT'S LIFE AWAY.
TO HELL WITH THAT, SHAKE THAT TREE AND KNOCK THAT
SLOTH OFF HIS ASS..."
I end this very long post with this last thought,
the words I write in my handmade graduation cards this year,
"Go out and make a difference in your World"
Happy Mothers Day!

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