in the end she was but a bird, struggling, pleading with her eyes to be set free. her vivacious and sometimes difficult life, her legendary creations in food and fiber, her stubbornness and her big hearted ways, were done. as can happen in the closing moments of a long life, the person is almost unrecognizable. the great animating force of the soul deflates in preparation for new-born flight.
i held her hands. she squeezed mine back. i offered rapid fire kisses to her forehead, the same as i would for a child. i looked her long and steady in the eye. i spoke of love. she heard me.
more of her family came. tears flowed, soft songs were sung, in her native tongue they spoke of home. on that buoyant wave she let the struggle go. she slipped out of the room, her feathers fresh and wet, full life behind and full life ahead.
what a privilege, dearest oma, to be one of your girls. so long and so deep i've loved you.
luise christine~ july 1919 to october 2010.
