Foundation
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2/13/2007 12:38 PM
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#1 )
As you start your life, people become your foundation from which you draw upon. My foundation took a hit when my Grandmother, Ophelia Rose Kennedy, a fiery little Choctaw medicine woman, died. She was the very very personification of kindness, wisdom and spirituality for me. She went to the spirit world in 1996. Every now and then I smell her perfume, and I weep. To this day I weep for her loss. I know she guides me, and I can still hear her voice. She was the very ground upon which this little house was built.
My little house recovered from loosing the ground beneath it, but barely.
Just when you think you can't posibly handle any more, a huge tornado rips through your life, and more of your little house becomes damaged. My plumbing is shot (I was diagnosed with uterine cancer in June of 2006). approximately 2 weeks after my plumbing went down hill, the most intelligent man whom I was ever graced to meet, Brian Buffkin, accidentally hit the life eject button and left a huge whole in the front side of my little house. To this day I laugh at the little things he said, and the mannerisms that he had. I miss him much.
So as I was trying to grasp the loss of true intelligence mixed with synicism, when the tornado turned around and came back. My other grandmother, Loretta Coltrin, who was the patience, matriarch, and teacher of the old ways of womanhood quietly went "north" (that is what she called dieng) 1 week after Brian left. I still smell the cookies she made, and still hear her singing in the kitchen.
My Sister was married to Brian, and as we grieved together, she too was hit by the tornado that turned around to come back our way, her cousin passed away and she found out that her grandfather and grandmother on her mother's side are very ill, and are not expected to make it for very long.
I have lost widom, intelligence, spirtualism, patience, guidance, and laughter from my little house. The house is ragged and fallin down, but it still houses me. Which is to say that the foundation, the plumbing, the kitchen, and the living room were badly damaged.
I have learned that a little house can take a beating and still stand. I have learned that even when your foundation begins to crumble that it is still there whether or not it can be seen. I have learned that loss reminds us that we are still alive, and that the timbers that frame your house are still standing. My sister and I still stand.
Should anyone read this, know that I have known much pain, and sorrow in my life. Know that I still weep for the loss of those that have left me before I was ready to loose them. But, also know, that although they have gone, their legacy of all that they gave me stays with me. I hope that others can learn that strength does not come from station in life, money, job or church. It comes from the foundation upon which you were built. You hold the deed to yourself, you choose to stay standing, or you choose to fall. I chose to stand against the tornado, and I stand today after it has gone. I am sure it will come by again, and until it nocks me down and wipes out my house, I will stand against it with my shoulder in and my head high.
I want to remind all of those who mourn, that you never loose your foundation. Rise again and rebuild.
"A wise man is not wise at all hours."
-Baltasar Gracian