Grave Faces IX

Time has turned a mass produced painted statue of the Holy Mother into an extraordinary image of endurance.

 

She might not open her eyes and shake her fist at Heaven shouting, "As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!" like Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With the Wind

but she will persevere.

As women have done all through history.

 

 

I've taken her picture before, but when I came across this angel a few days ago I was once again was struck by her delicate beauty.

But how strong the angels are.

To remain immobile, praying for all eternity.

 

 

There is something jaunty about this young fellow.

He's all decked out in a bright ribbon and he's playing a happy song.

I hear him playing the old Shaker hymn, "I Am the Lord of the Dance".

 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he.

This is not an angel.

It is a little girl.

She is smiling to herself remembering some happy moment that she shared with the person whose grave she is tending.

In a moment she will lean down and place the roses by the headstone.

No grief here, just love.

As soon as I spotted this tiny angel I reached down to brush the weeds away and as you can see from the look on her face I woke her up.

 

 

 

Grief doesn't appear to be something that goes away. 

Even after we've trained our minds to think of other things, there's a layer of sorrow beneath the surface of every thought, every action. 

 

But like the tiny angel above I feel as if I am waking up after a difficult year.

 

I'll leave you with this version of "Lord of the Dance".
 

 

 

 

 

The Tears of Old Mary

I was looking at pictures of religious statues last week and came across a Kitchen Madonna.

They are charming statues of the Virgin Mary holding a broom or doing some other form of house work.

They are meant to be kept in a woman's kitchen, hence the name.
.

Of course it is the Goddess, but I won't tell the Pope if you won't.


Anyway, at this point in my life, my concern isn't with my kitchen,

although maybe it should be.


My concern is with aging and mortality.


I began to wonder if the face of the Virgin ever got old.

Was she also the Crone?


Surely She would understand the pain of aging and death.

I haven't done any art since my elderly father died last September

but the muse is back.

I decided to draw Mary as an old woman.

What I saw when I finished wasn't  a Lady of Sorrows.

Jeesh,

Mary has an attitude!

And I have a feeling if you catch the tears of Old Mary

you'll be blessed with courage and creativity for all your days! 

***

End Days

When I left the hospital last night my father  whispered,

"I heard you crying.  Don't be upset when I die. I've had a good life, a good wife, a good family. Who could have asked for more?"

We were called back to the hospital at midnight but by 1 a.m. he had stabilized.

We left about 1:30.

I woke up at 5:30 and puttered around, so tired now, I'm never really sure why I'm in whatever room I'm in - but always waiting for the phone to ring.

About 9, I went out for groceries.

A lady was ahead of me at the checkout line talking to her red-haired three year old son.

I guess it was the hair.

I suddenly remembered my red-headed Dad telling me how humiliating it was during the Depression to have to go to school in a shirt made out of a sack.

The worst thing, he said with a look that always made me laugh, was the fact that every button was a different shape and colour.

I suppose some day the story will be funny again but not today.

Today I had to put my sunglasses on and hurry out of the store.