Forget-Me-Not

At my favorite place for the third time this summer, and you’d think I’d be writing about a heart full of grateful.  And maybe I am. But first I need to clear the clutter to get to the grateful and with a lot of layers to uncover, it’s a bit of an excavation dig – bear with me because I think we’ll get to gold (or at least Forget-Me-Not flower purply-blue).
My heart is heavy and it’s probably because the leaving – which I’ll do in two hours – is always so very hard. And because we had my Aunt Sharon’s Celebration of Life yesterday – which turned out so lovely and was the perfect tribute, in the perfect place, for a gentle, compassionate soul who is now at peace.

And also, it is the 16-year anniversary of my father’s death this week.  And though 16 years sounds like a lifetime to some, at this time of year it comes back to me like yesterday.

All of this weighs on me and the strong feelings make it hard to unravel words on paper into something meaningful – believe me, I’ve tried for a couple weeks now. It’s such a mixed jumble: happy to be at our cottage amidst family I love, who drive me crazy, who make me laugh, whose history I know and share; sad because my aunt’s Alzheimer’s was mean and unrelenting in what it took away from her and her family, leaving us with sweet memories that include her contagious giggle, devotion to dogs, classic style, steadfast modesty and genuine kindheartedness.  And her, with no memory at all – a clean slate of a spirit, released of her human accessories, as ready an angel as she’ll ever be. Pure and innocent and unfettered . . . ready to do God’s good work.

And the longing for my dad, well, it’s palpable at this time of year.  An open ache of what might have been as my life and family continue to unfold and his tangible presence is missing from my and my children’s lives. It’s like at some cellular level my body remembers how swiftly he was ripped from my life: a “now you see him-now you don’t” kind of cruel trick you can’t believe is possible.  Until that reality and kind of knowing sets in.  And though the ache becomes less frequent and more manageable as time goes by, there are times I REALLY miss him.  Early September is simply a given - a coming-around-again moment that deepens each year.

Held at “The Dell” in an open, grassy space in the middle of the Northern Michigan woods, my aunt’s Celebration of Life was also a coming-around-again moment.  Coming full circle, her memorial service occurred in the very same spot where she happened to get married some 53 years ago. And as the minister made his remarks, he stood where my aunt and uncle stood at their marriage ceremony.  A passage from Job 12:7-8 was quoted that echoed my Aunt Sharon’s love for animals - especially dogs, deer, and birds:

7“Just ask the animals, and they will teach you.
Ask the birds of the sky, and they will tell you.
8Speak to the earth, and it will instruct you.
Let the fish in the sea speak to you.

This notion of connectedness rings true for me; that God created all creatures and that we are One, all part and parcel of the same family. Native Americans give each animal symbolism and speak of animal totems or spirits that guide individuals in their lives and on their spiritual paths.  Though Native American spirituality was more my dad’s schtick than my Aunt Sharon’s (by a very long shot), perhaps the baby fox that was found dying under one of the tents early on the morning of her memorial service could have been one of my aunt’s spirit guides?

For those who knew my aunt, she hated having attention brought to herself. Never wanted her picture taken. Wanted to blend in and not have a lot of attention made on her behalf. And when I looked up the meaning of the fox in Native American traditions, one phrase really stood out:

“the art of camouflage”

Described as blending into one’s surroundings and having the ability to keenly observe, I can still picture my aunt sitting unobtrusively in the red chair on the front porch of the cottage quietly taking it all in. Fox medicine also illuminates the Oneness embodied in camouflage; it is believed that if a fox appears, it may be asking us to see the many possibilities of Oneness inherent in any situation.  I’d like to believe that fox that passed on the morning of my aunt’s Celebration of Life was there to remind us of our Oneness – to each other, the animals, each living creation - that we are all connected, that none of us are alone as we make our transition from this life to the next.

As a gift to my aunt’s many friends and family who attended her celebration of life, a small packet of Forget-Me-Not flower seeds was handed out to each attendee. My aunt’s love for flowers was well-known and a trip to a nursery in the springtime filled my aunt’s cup – the vibrant colors and smells and hope inherent in each blooming bud spoke to her. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The Earth laughs in flowers.”  Anyone lucky enough to hear my aunt’s giggle or happy laughter might just envision a red gerbera daisy: bright, happy, full of life.

The Forget-Me-Nots, they are a perennial and will come back each year in true coming-around-again style.  A quick google search said this:

Forget-Me-Nots are easy to grow. They will bloom profusely in shady areas, and do not require a lot of attention.

My aunt was a vibrant bloom – in sun and in shade, in her happier years and through her valiant battle with Alzheimer’s.  She never wanted to be the center of attention. She was adept at the art of camouflage. Except when she laughed. Then, it was a profusion of flowers and a vibrancy that could not be denied.

Forget-Me-Not, indeed.