Beautiful Old Broads think deep thoughts

Hello Dear Ones,

Chalk it up to Easter and the Resurrection story or maybe it was the news about a close neighbor.  Whatever, I've been dwelling on dying and faith and the afterlife and other deep deep subjects.  Probably because my DNA is Irish, then add a Catholic upbringing educated by the Dominican sisters and you get the picture, right?  You have only to read an Irish novel or poem or listen to the lyrics of an Irish song to know the Irish treasure their sorrows.

Back to my neighbor, Jackie.  Her husband went out last week to get his morning donut and wham...a man ran a red light and broadsided him.  He was instantly killed.  She never got a chance to say goodbye.  That is so sad.  On the other hand, there are the long goodbyes--the ones where a person suffers and struggles.  That's a trial for the survivor too.  Either way, it's inevitable.  The immutability of death.  As John Donne said  "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for you."

It's a given that somewhere along our path we will confront something so powerful or bewildering or terrifying that we can't fix it.  Many of us have already faced those realities.  Yet armed with faith or family or friends, we've managed to survive.  In one of my favorite books, "Learning to Fall", the wise beyond his years author repeats that life is a mystery.  Stop trying to figure everything out.  Just fall into it and accept our present condition.  No.  Life isn't fair but it still can be good.

Please know I'm not a spacey person.  However, I do believe that some things are unexplainable.  My mother has appeared to me twice.  Both times just a little more than a blink but clearly--it was her.  And no, I was not having my glass of wine.  Once she appeared sitting on the back porch swing.  As I went up the steps...there she was.  In a few seconds, she was gone.  Both times she appeared, I was not thinking about her yet I was having some difficulties with my daughter.  Maybe that's why she appeared.  I don't know.  I've come to believe there are some things that remain a mystery.

So this week, with buds on our tomato plants and the hummingbirds tucking their little rumps into my crossvine, I see signs of life everywhere and take refuge in my poetry which always lifts my spirits.  Enough deep thinking!
              "Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
              And sings the tune without words--And never stops at all..."
                                                        Emily Dickinson