Yellow Roses 3
Yellow and red roses, added to the bowl. Part of the ritual of remembrance for my mother and father. Yellow roses for her, red roses for him. This time, I bought two yellow roses, and one red rose. Symbolizing the mix of them together.
The next celebration will be my father's birth, in May. A year and a day I plan to do this. After that, we'll decide what to do next. Time will tell.
It's a (comforting) cliché that "time heals." That's wrong. Time just scabs over. Time doesn't heal. Some wounds you never get over. But you do live on, you do go on, and you do continue. Things have changed, and nothing will ever be the same again. You go on, not as if nothing ever happened, but as if everything has happened. You live. You do your best to live.
Labels: family history, photography, ritual, roses
posted by Art Durkee at 11:23 PM
2 Comments:
'not as if nothing ever happened, but as if everything has happened' - true.
As after amputation, you don't walk again in the same way, but you learn to walk a new way. A person can still be whole, even if the scars don't fade to invisible.
I didn't intend to drop out of our comment-conversation so abruptly last week - sorry - have found and liked your writings.
No worries, I know how life can cause hiccups.
The amputation analogy is a good one, perhaps very close to the feeling if not the fact. Indeed, a person can still be whole, no matter what. That's what it's all about.
Thanks.
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