Memorial to my heart!
A/N This has nothing to do with any of my stories but I have found in my young life that the easiest way to let go of my longing in my shattered heart is to write it down. This is for my great aunt Skip that taught many things about love and loss, about protecting those close to your heart even when it looks as if all the world is against them, and too never forget those that mean the most to you.
on June 27, 1930 a woman was born and through her life she has touched many and held so much love for those she cared for that now days after her death on June 3,2009 my heart still weeps and anguished silent screams echo the loudest about this empty room. At the age of 78 a aged old woman died in her hospital bed her heart going still in the night forever. Leaving many behind to grieve.
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The insistent long drawn out beep that never ended but fell like a hammer on my heart shattering it to oblivion. The doctors looked at one another for a moment more as they wrote in their books and checked their watches before leaving the room and giving their condolences to the grieving family. But as I stared in disbelief that something so sudden so final could befall a woman so strong so caring left me numb and cold. I could hear the doctors saying that it was her time to go and that she had a full life with no regrets, But all I heard was the same long mono tone of the flat line until the orderly removed the device and then nothing.
They pulled the curtains to show a cloudy sky that ripped open and cried for me as I could not shed a tear.
"Why?" I ask the silent room looking at the one person that had always been a constant, villigent reminder that i was never alone.
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The ride home was silent for Rose as she stared out into the wet world beyond the glass of her car window. Almost in a daze Rose found herself in front of her great aunt's house, getting out of the car and walking to the gate she hesitates feeling no welcome home or the presents she so wishing to see smiling at her from the porch or the front door.
She opens the gate and walks on the path under the raining sky and then under the arch of roses onto the porch. Rose raised her hand to touch the porch swing's chain on the one side the side with the pink cushions with detailed flowers stitched by hand into the fabric. As her fingers linger on a very sloppy flower another rose they shake and the tears she could not shed by her bed side at the hospital began to fall.
A memory from a time long gone of a young girl with blond hair watching aged hands that made precise stitches into the pink fabric outlining a rose.
"Can you teach me how Aunt Skip!" the excited 10 year old asked gazing up at the dark hair and kind face with reverence.
"A Rose asking to learn how to stitch a rose?" The aging woman asked with amusement dancing in her wise eyes.
"But I am not pretty like a rose the kids at school say so..." The girl murmured looking at her toes dangling off the ground as they swung on the porch swing enjoying the spring sun and gentle breeze.
"Of course your not pretty... Your beautiful as a rose bud and some day you will bloom into a radiant Flower" The girl giggled with a bright smile.
The day past and the girl had been taught how to stitch rose patterns into the fabric and she hummed a tune with her great aunt until a tall dark haired man started up the walk to meet them.
"Are you ready to go Rose?"
The girl raced to meet her father after hugging her Aunt tightly. The man turned and hugged his aunt and then they left.
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A year later Frances walked out her door to hear small cries and whimpers on her porch swing and there was the little Rose bud shaking like a fragile flower a rose can be in the gail of a storm.
"Whats the matter my sweet flower?" The aged woman asked draping her arms around the girl.
"I hate my father he says mommy can never come home again that some man hurt her badly and that god loved mommy so much that he took her away from all the pain in this world with him to heaven. I hate god he should let me have my mommy back it's not fair how can she leave me like this i need her." The girl sobbed.
The woman sighed heavily she had just got off the phone with her brother who had told her about his daughter in law's death just moments before she found her Rose bud on her porch.
"Now my beloved Rose look at that flower there the blue one do you know what it is called?" she asked the little girl.
"No" The girl whimpered softly.
"That my dear is a flower that only blooms in the early mornings and dies when the heat of the sun touches it, only to be reborn the next morning as beautiful as before, it is a promise from god that everything will be alright and that there is a purpose for taking something so beautiful and kind away it shows us the reason we should be grateful for those in our lives and cherish every moment like it was our last and that one day those that leave before us will be with us once again when it is our time to go."
The girl sniffed and buried her head in her aunts shoulder to cry some more, but she knew she would see her mother again some day just as her aunt Skip said that she just had to wait and be patient.
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years went by and a young woman walked into the yard and sat on the porch swing with an older woman who had the same dancing eyes as before with more wrinkles from smiling and living her life to the fullest.
"Look at my Rose she has finally bloomed into my radiant perfect flower." Frances sighed looking at her niece's pretty smile.
"I miss her still and so do my little sisters it her anniversary and my father has stopped going to her grave, his new wife doesn't like him spending time there anymore." Rose said softly her glossy eyes barely holding back the tears that threatened to fall.
"Come here my Rose, do you see that weeping willow tree will you help me to it?" The young woman nodded and stood to help her aged aunt walk under the tree and there was a little stone bench that over looked a large engraved stone leaned against the tree.
I AM NOT THERE
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am in the thousand winds that blow
I am the softly falling snow
I am the gentle showers of rain
I am the fields of ripening grain
I am in the morning hush
I am in the graceful rush
Of birds in circling flight
I am the star shine of the night
I am in the flowers that bloom
I am in a quiet room
I am the birds that sing
I am in each lovely thing
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die
- Mary Frye
Rose cried after reading the stone and hugged her aunt tightly.
"I got that brought here after my son died of cancer, No parent should out live their children as no mother should leave her daughters all alone. Your mother loved you as do I and you have two sisters that you must remember to love and care for when they are sad and feel weak you must be their stone to give them strength, their shoulder to cry on and their heart to tell them stories of their mothers love for them and never forget to hold them close and never let them leave your heart."
Rose hugged her aunt tight and promised that she would never let her sisters ever be alone and she never did.
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years would go by and Rose would grow to be a woman with a life of hard ships and trials.
She would always come to her great aunts home and sit with her on her porch swing laugh and cry at times into her aunts shoulder.
Rose's aunt was her rock for strength, her shoulder to cry on when the world was against her and her heart when she needed to hear stories of her mother and how her mother would advise her in many aspects of life.
Rose grew older and married soon after finding the love of her life never forgetting her aunts words to never leave any regrets and to always love her sisters, keep her anger in control, forgive easily, laugh often and love forever.
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Rose sat on the wet ground under that same tree where her Aunt's son's memorial stone lay with its heart wrenching words of love. Rose stared at the stone for a long time not moving and under that weeping willow tree who shared her grief at loosing her treasured aunt she cried all the tears she had and when she heard a soft voice behind her and a soft touch on her shoulder. Turning around to look a her husband she crawled into his lap to cry some more. He was her new stone of strength, her shoulder to cry on and the glue to piece her broken heart back together.
on the soft breeze that swayed the weeping will branches gently Rose could hear her aunts soft voice call to her either from heavens gates or only in the recesses of her memories it did not matter. The words of comfort were all she needed to be strong again.
I AM NOT THERE
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am in the thousand winds that blow
I am the softly falling snow
I am the gentle showers of rain
I am the fields of ripening grain
I am in the morning hush
I am in the graceful rush
Of birds in circling flight
I am the star shine of the night
I am in the flowers that bloom
I am in a quiet room
I am the birds that sing
I am in each lovely thing
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die
Rose sighed and replied to the gentle voice.
If tears could build a stair case
And memory a lane
I would walk right up to heaven
And bring you home again
That night Rose went home and climbed the stairs and down the hall to a small nursey where she climbed into the small bed with her three year old son and wrapped her arms around him and said to his sleeping form.
I am here for you as your stone when you need strength, your shoulder to cry on when the world turns its back on you, and your heart when you need someone to hold onto when everything is not alright.
Rose closed her eyes and remembered all her talks with her great aunt all the courage, love and strength her aunt possessed and smiled softly as the tears continued to fall.
"I am your radiant rose in your well tended garden, I will wait for the day we meet again but i am not ready to leave yet so you must wait and when the time comes i will walk right into your arms and be with you again."
-end-
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A/n In memory of
Frances Ellen Arbogast
Date of birth
June 27,1930
Date of death
June 3, 2009
I will smile often, Laugh always, forgive easily, and love forever. You have taught me much to live for and to never regret a moment. life is too short and too precious to waste a minute. To the woman whom ment alot to everyone whoes life she touched. we will miss you and never forget you or the things you taught us. Rest in peace forever and always your lonely flower.