in our tradition,
people die three deaths.
the first death is when out bodies cease to function;
when our hearts no longer beat of their own accord.
when our gaze no longer has a depth or weight,
when the space we occupy slowly loses its meaning.
the second death comes when the body is lowered into the ground,
returned to mother earth, out of sight.
the third death,
the most definitive death,
is when there is no one left alive to remember us.
victor landa
this memorial weekend
as we take time to do the sacred work of remembering
may we be filled with the presence of all those
now gone that once filled our days with love and comfort.
in our remembering may we be graced
with their courage, lessons, verve
and reaffirm our place in the mystery of it all;
to live life fully,
straight from our hearts, boldly, with great unending passion,
and care for each other
one full day at a time.
"we seem far away
yet we are near as weeping
or the breath of God"
"My memories are precious like the flowers of the field
they are more precious than silver or gold.
My dad called me his little 'bud', I loved this I felt so special!"
sue fox
"When I was a 'boater' with my husband before he died rather young,
I always felt I was in 'paradise' out on the ocean.
There is nothing quite like it when you are at one with the sea and hardly any boats around.
Grateful I have those wonderful memories."
carol
"We lost Grandma when I was eight years old,
but she has never left my mind.
I've always considered her my guardian angel. If you look closely, you can almost see her wings."
"Momma also has a story about making a pie.
She had all of the ingredients except for an egg. She went to the chicken coop
and sat and waited and waited for a chicken to lay an egg.
Then she finished her pie."
"She had tiaras in every room of the house
so she could wear one when she was doing laundry or cooking."
They had five daughters and I am the "baby,
" age 74, and my mom always introduced me as "her baby,"
even when I was a married lady with kids myself.
"Later when I got home and unwrapped the flowers,
there tucked deep inside the flower stems were 3 dry pinto beans.
a message from Tim.
I still have those beans.
They are going on my ofrenda shrine."
gemma
"His name was John and he loved to garden.
He taught me how to till the soil
plant seeds to grow tomatoes and strawberries.
He taught me about caterpillars and worms.
He taught me to love the taste of what I'd grown by eating them right off the plant."
cheryl
"My father taught me to grow up without fear,
to grab the bull by the horns,
and get out there and live life to the fullest.
Often, when I least expect it, I see and feel his hand holding mine..."
adriana
"Tonight I hope to have quiet time
in the living room to begin writing memories
of some of my family, friends and heroes and heroines
I admire who have passed on. Death does not end a relationship."
fran
redondowriter's sacred ordinary
"We learn to live with loss by allowing ourselves to feel the pain and completely live in the present
moving on as best we can. So we will celebrate and remember
the happiness that we had, have, and share always."
gloria
today i am collecting snippets of remembering;
each one a flower pressed with honor in the life of another.
i hope this will stir precious memories of those you love
and encourage you to share a memory
for your comment...
more flowers on the altar of love.
i am honored to share that all our offerings of remembrance
have been published at
