from corners of earth
all fly to central vortex
In Tuscon, Arizona at 10:00 a.m. , my aunt Naomi will be laid to rest. Family members will be gathered. Tears will be shed. Maybe even smiles as someone recalls who this woman is/was. The tension of 3 weeks going from water aerobics and laughter to final breath has subsided. Now the silence.
I’m not there. I’m not with them. But i feel the impact of family at such a time. I don’t usually attend family gatherings unless the timing’s right and my mood is high. Although I live on a kibbutz, my socializing is limited. I tend to write more than speak. I tend to research more than share. And now that my Aunt has passed, I really can’t say if she was extroverted or not. I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve really spent days with her. I feel her energy, but I know little of her manifestations.
Luckily, her four children are all energetic beings filled with humour and talent. In this way, her DNA continues and her unique attributes expand, exponentially.
Rest in peace, dear Aunt.
a flower blooms
bee and pollen party
until the end
bee, collecting pollen image by amlet from Fotolia.com
My Aunt N, so very distant in Tuscon, Arizona has been discharged from the hospital. Not for good reasons, but rather because the doctors cannot provide the miracle that is required. Modern medicine can do nothing more for this wonderful woman.
Her humour surfaced this past week. She was ironic and cute, making light of considerable agony. Her body cooperated long enough for her to regain consciousness and joke with her immediate family.
But now, she’s been sent out of the ward to transition in the white noise of another location, a place where she can be surrounded more with love than with chlorine. She is being medicated. Her children and husband are with her. Her brothers will be there soon, if all works according to their wishes.
I’m so very distant. My channels are open – no news but the slightest tilt of vibes. Silence. Where a few days ago relief flooded e-mails, now there’s only shorthand for yes, we’re here. The intensity of living each moment as each moment unfolds.
I have no recent photographs of my Aunt. I have only the image of her huge smile, her large blue eyes, her birkenstocks. Her beautiful musical voice. Her easy going rhythm. I saw her about 4 years ago. I hold the image close.