10 April 2009

time since... eleven months

A familiar view, approaching Henefer; Grandpa's mountain in the background. I remember approaching the town once with my mom. She looking at the mountain and saying, "of all the places in the world, how was I born right here?" And I ask now, "of all the places in the world how did she die right here?" She loved her home. Memories of climbing the hill imprinted thick and solid. Dallen and Kimberly and I rolling boulders off of the train side in the canyon anticipating the split-rock deafening crash. We would also lay under the train bridge as it crossed the slough, tuck up close holding on to each other, wait for the train. As it barrelled over us, the bridge bowing inches away from our faces we would let out this primitive scream still holding tight. For all three of us, even now, lying under the train made us feel most alive. It is Easter this Sunday. We will go visit Grandpa, 91 years old. He hosts an "Easter egg roll" each year, but it is a misnomer as everyone knows in the Stephens clan. We throw the eggs at each other. The oldest cousins decked out in helmets and garbage can lids to defend against the onslaught. Easter was my mother's favorite holiday. Last year was the last family gathering we spent with her. It was a great day. She threw snow at the grandkids while they searched for hidden eggs. I don't know why these festive activities have a hint of aggression, but through it all we learned to hold on tight -- to each other. Oh I miss her. I dream of her helping me with babies. I hear her laugh and her fingernails clicking on the table and running through my hair. I keep repeating a phrase from a Carl Sandburg poem...

heavy heavy is love to carry
and light as one rose petal,
light as a bubble, a blossom,
or a finger or a wisp of hair
never forgotten

Happy Easter Mom - Love Nanner


karengberger said...

Sending prayers for comfort for you as you remember your dear mother, and as you share this holiday (that she loved so much) with your family. God bless you.

karengberger said...

Oh, my goodness, DeAnn, that poem you left on my blog is GORGEOUS. I love it; it is so powerful and meaningful to me in a number of ways. I have to tell you, briefly, one of them (other than the obvious one, which is its perfect imagery of God and us).
When we were building our house, which we had carefully planned and lovingly designed, we were swindled by the general contractor. We lost so much money that we weren't sure how we were going to finish the house; it had to be partly demolished and rebuilt. I used to walk the beach and pray to God to show us what to do. I remember one day, I saw an empty clam shell, with beautiful purple and yellow colors inside of it. I felt God telling me, "If I care enough to paint the inside of this clamshell so beautifully, I can finish your house with beauty." And it happened: money came in totally unexpectedly, and we were able to finish it, with a lot of hard work and cooperation. We learned TONS from the experience. That poem brought the clamshell back to me...thank you so much! Blessed Easter to you. XO

Sara Jane said...

I hope your Easter was a good one DeAnn and I'm sure the "egg roll" was fun. The pork turned out well and I couldn't help but think of Aunt Saundra a lot this weekend. She was the best.