Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Rose of My Youth
Matka Boska - Polish for Blessed Mother. I heard this words often in my youth. My Mother's prayer or plea for help with the children. I don't hear these words from her lips any more, but they still resonate within my heart. Our heart actually, Momma lives on in me. Her DNA is mine, her experience, strength, courage, and frailties are shared and alive.
Today is the anniversary of her death. The beginning of August is frequently difficult for me, because of the anniversaries of the loss of both my Mother and my sister. Tonight my wife joined me as I lit a candle before my Mother's photo and played Matka Boska in her honor. Many times today I thought of her. But rather than sadness manifesting, today was a day of happiness and lightness. I know she would have wanted it this way.