Longwood Gardens, approaching the Meadow
I know. It’s about 45 minutes away from home. But it’s still my secret garden annex. A place of refuge and natural beauty any time of the year, plus occasional romantic walks in the woods.
Not to mention hot and sweaty hikes, Read the rest of this entry »
First what’s happening:
So who’s Bela? Read the rest of this entry »
Your eyes seek the camera
Draw me into your beauty
Your calm demeanor
and stylish dress. Read the rest of this entry »
Family Photo 1961
Is death the only thing
That pulls this family
Together?
Death and old photos?
Moments interrupted by
Years of absence…. Read the rest of this entry »
Dear Mom,
I’m sitting here trying to put together a really nice letter for Mother’s Day. So far I’m getting nowhere. It isn’t because I don’t have ideas. It’s because I’m feeling a little lost today, and my ideas seem to be falling flat on their faces.
Last week was sad. Sister #2’s husband died, leaving us all gaping at the huge hole this left in our family. Sort of like the huge hole left when you died. Like yours, his death was relatively peaceful. Though he was in pain, his caregivers found a way to manage it so that his children and his nine grandchildren could be with him and Sister #2 when he died.
Some deaths are difficult. I’ve been reading a small book by Henri Nouwen called In Memoriam. It’s about his mother’s death. He talks about how many deaths he witnessed as a priest. Most were peaceful; some were difficult.
His mother’s death turned out to be difficult. This surprised him, though not totally. She often told him she feared death because she didn’t believe she’d been a very upstanding person. Maybe she didn’t feel ready.
I wonder how it will be for me? There have been times in my life when I know I didn’t feel ready. My worst nightmare was that my own fears would be proven true. That is, that I’ve lived a life unworthy of anything but judgment. Which is, of course, true.
Nonetheless, I don’t have this nightmare anymore. I know that whatever happens, I’m in the hands of a gracious God. Yet I do wonder what will be the manner and spirit of my death. And who will be with me.
Last week, the day after D and I heard the news about Sister #2’s husband, we spent the day at Longwood Gardens. It was a gorgeous day, with spring leaves and flowers bursting their seams. Lots of reminders about the way life and death are distinct and closely related. Here are more photos. This time we focused on the Meadow and the Flower Walk. That’s a tree swallow below.
The Meadow Garden had been trimmed for spring and summer, leaving some ground cover for birds and small animals. This is only a fraction of the meadow. Great for hiking.
Near the pond we saw several varieties of fern just beginning to unfurl. To me, this is more beautiful than their adult incarnations. Sort of like children–sweet and fresh. Newly minted!
Finally, the flower walk. Here are some beauties, beginning with a look at one end of the walk. Colors are arranged with warm colors at one end, cool colors at the other. Here’s a sampling: tulips, lilies of the valley, lily tulips and coreopsis.
Thanks for listening to my sadness about last week. It’s exactly what I needed right now. Have a happy day!
Love and hugs,
Elouise
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 May 2015
Photo credit: DAFraser, 29 April 2015
~~~Weeping Willow, Longwood Gardens
My heart and body wouldn’t cooperate with my mind today. So I’m following their lead to see what happens. Though I’ve felt this resistance in me before, each time it’s a bit different.
It’s about ‘moving on’ with my life. Getting back to ‘normal,’ whatever that is. With regard to the blog, Read the rest of this entry »
Dear Readers,
We’ve had a death in my family–Sister #2’s husband. The sister with whom we had a double wedding nearly 50 years ago. I’ll be checking in from time to time, but don’t know when I’ll resume regular postings. Probably not for several days.
If you haven’t already, Read the rest of this entry »
Do words in old letters ever die? Here’s Mr. Griswold’s thank-you letter about my work in the dean’s office at Harvard Law School. Click on the letter to enlarge it.
When it arrived in 1967, I showed it to David and put it away. Our first baby was almost ready to be delivered. Besides, Read the rest of this entry »
Forsythe Park Fountain, Savannah, Georgia
Dear Mom,
I miss you. I’d love to sit down with a cup of tea and continue the conversations we had before your stroke. Though you didn’t particularly like all my questions about your past, you did your best to answer them.
I’m grateful for every conversation we had back then. I’m also grateful that you wrote down memories of your early life. A bit of your personal history. Every now and then I find myself hungry for more, though most of the time it’s enough. Your written words give glimpses of your heart and your struggle with circumstances over which you had no control.
I’ve been thinking about your memorial service in 1999. I got to make remarks on behalf of the four of us, your daughters. I decided to show and tell how much you loved teaching children music. Not just to the four of us, but to the kindergarten children you taught after I’d married and moved away.
I still have your old spiral music notebook, filled with children’s songs. For your service I picked out several of my favorites and said a bit about each song before I played the music. I also read the words and demonstrated motions for at least one of the songs. The one about how elephants kalump along, their long noses swaying in time to the music!
The most fun was coming to the end of “The Polliwog’s Story,” and (like you, without warning) suddenly turning around on the piano bench to give everyone a big scare with the last line! They loved it! For a moment we felt your joy and exuberance, and celebrated your lively spirit and your love for children and music.
I also played some of your favorite adult hymns. Not too many, but just enough, with comments about why I chose each. The most difficult to get through was “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” That was the hymn you tried to sing so often when you first got polio, even though your vocal chords were paralyzed.
I’m tearing up as I write this part. I owe you so much. I’ve been reading a book by Henry Nouwen. He talks about the way absence can cause our love for someone to grow. I’m beginning to understand what he’s talking about.
Part of it is my freedom to write you these letters and say things I couldn’t say while you were with us. It’s also because I understand our family dynamics more than before, and how costly they were for you, not just for me.
A few days ago I was thinking about my grandparents and how little I knew any of them except for your father, my California Grandpa. That got me thinking about the way you and he related to each other, especially since your Mom wasn’t around for most of your life.
When we lived on the West Coast, we spent lots of time visiting Grandpa and going with him to fun places like the Wilson Observatory and the Griffith Park Zoo. Even his apartment was fun! There were long sidewalks outside. I remember learning to ride my first bike on them. The bike he gave me, with training wheels.
After we moved to the East Coast, things changed. But you still kept in regular touch through letters. I know you wrote to him about us and what we were up to, because his letters to you sometimes included comments back to each of us.
He seemed to dote on us. It meant a lot to me back then to know he thought we were the best and the brightest little girls in the whole wide world. I’m guessing it meant a lot to you, too. You must have missed him terribly. I think you inherited your love of fun and of children from him.
How do you like the photo of the Forsythe Park Fountain? I love the water droplets flying through the air! If you enlarge it, you’ll see pink azaleas blooming in the background.
Love and hugs,
Elouise
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 March 2015
I just found this short piece plus two others Diane sent me via email. I’m adding them to my Dear Diane collection. For those who are new: Diane, my Sister #3, died of ALS in 2006. She wrote a number of pieces like this. Enjoy! Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 