I have some new drawings, and, as always, trying to catch the light, the glitter and the shine, and not quite fast enough. And, my recent drawings are too large to scan on my equipment, and the copier that would work, last time I trekked to Port Townsend, was broken.
Wanting to post something I wrote for the memorial for my father, I googled (or, more accurately, yahooed) glittery surf images, looking for the diamonds. All right, I decided to use google; way more images. These aren’t exactly what I had in mind, and I’d love to give credit to the photographers- obviously I give them high praise, but it would be great to mention those who captured the light so stunningly (if the one is ‘enhanced’ a bit; great job on that).
We are all, some believe, made of stardust;
The earth containing a finite amount of matter;
Matter that is, on some level, not destroyed, not lost, but reformed.
Does this help when we have lost someone?
When we are grieving?
When those close to us pass on, when the spirit quits the body, gives up the body,
That spirit carries a bit of us with it;
And, then, it seems, logically, we keep a bit of that person’s spirit;
Memories we can bring back,
Some almost-tangible bit of hope as we grieve,
Some remembered wisdom,
Some deed, some moment of love or kindness or strength
We can bring back into focus,
Some bit of stardust.
That was it. I had some concern the piece might make some of my siblings uncomfortable, maybe perceived as a bit of a push on or against some religious belief. My youngest sister, Melissa, put the program for our Dad’s memorial together, brought it with her from Illinois. Great job. People who knew our dad from his last thirty-plus years down in Chinook seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Maybe they were remembering that twinkle, sparkle, bit of glitter in his eyes. Diamonds.
It would be pretty amazing to find out one day that we have the ability to recognize or remember one another on a subatomic level.