Keep Me in Your Heart (Warren Zevon)

This morning was the funeral and interment of my friend M's mom Phyllis - I of course needed to be there, for myself as well as for the family. My daughter Sarah met up with me, as did our friend R (who introduced me to M about 14 years ago) - my husband and son both had to work, and my other son is away at college 4 hours away, or else they would have been there too...

There are few things more helpless than witnessing another family's grief - we paid our respects before everything started, and then stayed for a lovely service - the highlight for me was when the minister asked if anyone had anything to say... and K (M's daughter) got up to share. She spoke of her grandmother's love of, and aptitude for, crafts... and asked how many people in the room had in their possession anything Phyllis had made - over 90% raised their hands (heartwarming)... and it made me vow that the Santa she gifted to our family many years ago will hold a prominent place of honor for years to come...

Much love to M - may she be surrounded by the love and support of her family and friends during this most difficult time... and beyond...

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On Star Maker Machine this week, the theme is 1989... although, since Saturday is Valentine's Day, there was a last-ditch possibility of changing it to Hearts... which was quickly squashed - I figured I could issue myself the Hearts challenge here instead... and, in a two-for-the-price-of-one anarchic/conciliatory move at SMM, all my 1989 songs will include Love in the title (ha!)...

P.S. SMM...

SONG: Keep Me in Your Heart by Warren Zevon

BOOK: Feathers Brush My Heart: True Stories of Mothers Connecting with Their Daughters After Death by Sinclair Browning

POEM: A Rescue by John Updike

Today I wrote some words that will see print.
Maybe they will last "forever," in that
someone will read them, their ink making
a light scratch on his mind, or hers.
I think back with greater satisfaction
upon a yellow bird--a goldfinch?--
that had flown into the garden shed
and could not get out,
battering its wings on the deceptive light
of the dusty, warped-shut window.

Without much reflection, for once, I stepped
to where its panicked heart
was making commotion, the flared wings drumming,
and with clumsy soft hands
pinned it against a pane,
held loosely cupped
this agitated essence of the air,
and through the open door released it,
like a self-flung ball,
to all that lovely perishing outdoors.

QUOTE: "Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains." ~ Kahlil Gibran