It was the smile
That I remember
From my conscious days.
For eight decades,
I basked in that smile.
Lucy was lucent
And, when she entered a room,
It lit up with happiness.
Her smile was stamped
With her ardent faith
Which emboldened
Our hope
When she promised
To pray for us.
Her knees were callused
And her forehead
Was marked
From constant kneelings
And prostrations
Of the Stations of the Cross.
Now we bid tearful “Good bye”
When she has left
Our temporal abode
To enter her eternal home.
Seara of the sea air,
With golden locks
And sea green eyes,
Waded into my emptiness,
Into my life
Of lonely thoughts
And deep desperation.
Seara of the sea air,
With golden hair
And sea green eyes,
Woke me from the depths
Into wakeful seconds
Breathing deep,
The pallor forsaken
For roseate cheeks..
Seara of the sea air,
With golden hair
And sea green eyes,
Breathed into me exquisite life-
I came out of depths
Spluttering with live air
Inspiring life,
Laughter glimmering-
I was alive!
Seara of the sea air,
With golden hair
And sea green eyes,
Is no more!
She left me, bereft
Of her living light,
But the glimmer lingers-
Our life, a Milky Way
Of shared moments
Of streaks of love and life.
Our little man, our little angel,
To have and to hold,
And to lose in our time!
But, we have you always,
In our hearts, in our minds
And in the depths of our lives.
Your image we saw first-
Like the smudgy man in the moon-
And into our lives
And into our hands
Came your little being.
So tiny-
Yet, great with our love,
Large with our hope,
And always green
In our memory!
Dedicated to Sean and Deanna Russo on the day of their son’s funeral.
Fancy to find a mud baby
Rising out of the lotus pond;
His shorts and ‘tee’ stuck to his body,
His face, arms, hands, legs and feet
Were covered in dark, oozing mud!
Why there was a mud baby
In the miniature lotus pond,
I do not know!
He looked sad and listless;
Nothing could energize him.
Then a white fairy flew in
And held the muddy hands.
She carried him far away
To a land where no one ridiculed.
He was cleaned till his skin shone bright
And he wore white garments like the fairy
When he came back to his own land,
He shone above everyone.
The people were amazed
And they whispered,
”Is this the ugly mud baby?”
”I am the same mud baby.
Now I am loved and cared for.
All the filth of ridicule was washed away
By the white fairy of love and her people.
In this world of realities, my mother was the beacon that led the way in my life. From her, I learned the values of life. A vessel of generosity, she opened the door to humanity. She saw people as human beings, irrespective of rank and station. She told me that the people around us were all children of some “mothers”, whether they were master or servant. Welfare of others was of paramount importance to her.
She was always generous with food. People stopped by after the morning Mass. They never left without breakfast. She had a regular acquaintance for Wednesday lunch in honor of St. Joseph.
She always cared about the well being of her domestic help. I have memories of her directing the girls about personal cleanliness. She watched over them and directed them when they washed their hair. She gave particular attention when they washed their clothes.
The mental wellness of those who worked for her was very important for her. She lent books and magazines for those who worked under her.
She never ate food delicacies without sharing them with her underlings. If there was not enough, she used to cut them into smaller pieces to go around.
My mother’s cooking was out of this world. But she never looked down on others’ cookings. She taught me to respect the efforts of others. She discouraged me from looking down on them.
My mother was a natty dresser. She was meticulous in pleating her clothes in the traditional manner. Although of a height of five feet, she knew how to hold a dignified stature.
She was a gifted natural singer. Everyday our family sang at least two songs after the family prayer in the evening. She came from a family that sang. Her brother taught himself how to play several instruments and got together with his friends and had music sessions. At home, he sang with his sisters and was the accompanist. My mother had cherished memories of her appearing on the stage as divine apparition of Virgin Mary and sang. We all inherited her singing genes at varied levels.
My mother was very neat. Her housekeeping was excellent. While she was in school, her teachers kept composition book on top when the District Inspectors came for assessment.
To me, Elizabeth Joseph was the quintessence of “ Mother”.
Is it so hard to say,
”I love you”,
When a word, a sigh,
A glance and a quirky smile
Dance into memories
Igniting a warmth
And the heart takes a leap
To eventually subside.
Heart is so recalcitrant
That it cannot look
At love in the eye
And proclaim,
”I love you”.
Only when intense moments
Have passed,
Never to return
When time’s compass revolved
Leaving one with eternal loss,
And clutching at heart
To soften the ache.
RosyView 