Rise Up...

jaynie(76)

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The LIFESTYLE LOUNGE

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The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God's Heart in a garden Than anywhere else on earth.

I am not a religious person - not in the slightest. I would entertain the possibility of referring to myself as a spiritual person, but that is really of no consequence for where I am headed with this. The above quote was one which resonated with my mom strongly. She was not only an artist but the most incredible set of green fingers you would ever have met. In fact, I think the garden was her true passion. The artistic talent she was blessed with was her gift.

After divorce, my mom applied for a job which ultimately ended up becoming her career and they were looking for a MAN - stipulated in the advert. I LOVE that she applied for it regardless! She got it too and from where I sat as a young girl, those were some of the happiest years of her life. She truly shone!

My mom was also a great writer, no - she never really allowed that facet of talent to develop here on Hive because I think she had already given up on life – unbeknown to me, or any of us – she had been living with breast cancer for several years already. She "started" the writing of her book so many times it brings tears to my eyes even writing this because she never finished it and she really should have! "Tommy" would have been the title. That was her nickname as a little girl.

I have had a few conversations of late and many over the years about people who have faced adversity and challenge in their lives - how it shapes us and the “end results” and I can honestly say that I don’t think I have met many who have been exposed to the amount of SHIT my mother was as a little girl. My mom was born in Zimbabwe and was one of five girls. Her father was a well-regarded man and the head game ranger at Wankie Game Reserve which from what I can tell, has been renamed to Hwange. I found out about my mother’s greatest tragic life experience via a dream.

My mom and I shared dinners every single Thursday. One week I would cook, the other her. It was on one of those evenings which I told her about this dream I had, repeatedly for almost 7 days recurring. Yes, dream recollection is something I am familiar with and have done a lot over the years, but the detail and eerie mood of this one really bugged me, especially because it was making itself KNOWN through recurrence. Without me even knowing it, I described the build-up toward, and the entire scene which was the murder of her sister, by her mother. She shot her point blank in the head in her father’s gun room. As I explained this dream to my mom – I recall her becoming uncomfortable, but she remained silent until I had finished. When I had, she said to me – Jaynie, you have just painted the picture of Val’s death right to the very last detail.

I had a similar experience with the death of my moms closest sister… but that is a story for another day. My point was – I honestly have NO idea how my mother was as good a person as she was throughout her life – but she was. She endured MANY things which eventually did break her, sad to say, but she put a smile on for 71 years and FUCK, that is a LOT more than many do. I miss her so very much! She was my BEST friend! Always was, always will be. Despite my defiance, she stood my by side. Encouraged me, loved me and gave me EVERYTHING she lacked as a little girl. Free from fault? No. Are any of us? But she did the best she could with what she had left in her, until she had nothing left and then she waved her white flag.

I never contemplated having to nurse my mother to the point of her dying day, she was a proud woman and having to feel the shame she felt as she lost her dignity will never leave me. Hardest thing I have ever done and I truly DID do the absolute BEST I could. She made a flippant remark to would my sister in law just moments before she left our house for the last time and we admitted her to hospital. "Never thought she would make a good nurse, but she did". That hurt (and continues to haunt) me more than I care to admit, even if it come from a place that "wasn't really her".

People always talk flippantly about the “legacy” they will leave behind when they are gone… my mom was a quiet women. Damn could she scowl without a word, she could hold the current title of Ice Princess truth be told, but that was only ever her insecurity showing through - but she was a lady to the core. A beautiful but broken soul – she loved as unconditionally as she could and she embraced the beauty of simplicity in life. I am grateful for this side of her because it taught me to nurture the same level of appreciation for those things which “actually” matter, and these are roots which I will carry with me always.

I have officially rambled to a point of losing my point. Do I need to have one? Was this one? Who knows… and you know what – who fucking cares! I keep having to remind myself, that this little “space” – is MINE to do with, as I fucking please. Take from it what you will – and leave the rest!

I suppose my point was the “rising up” of us as individuals. Sure, I have had some “adventures in life” you probably have too. My mom was exposed to things she NEVER should have been as a little girl of five. I have also been exposed to things I should not have been, I also CHOSE to expose myself to many things in an attempt to escape the wounds already there…we ALL have our stories.

I walk around my dads garden as a woman, a mother too. As I walk around with the hose, I recall how much time my mom spent in this garden over the years, seeing all of the little “plans” which she clearly had in place for the garden even though it was not hers. I also consider how my father sacrificed of his own life, in the allowing of my mom – his ex-wife, to be a part of this space, take part in family get togethers – staying in his home for the sake of US ALL as their children. It was not perfect, never will be…. But it was ours and I am grateful that we had that.

The "learning" in life is about WHAT you choose to take from what you are presented with, what you choose to do with it and how you choose it to shape you.