I fell in love with her soul. I loved how she composed herself so well yet had a mind filled with so many convictions and ideas. She was worldly, she was funny, she was smart, and she had class. I admired her. She was that girl that had guys crawling on their knees, but she never batted an eyelash. She wasn’t about that. She was much deeper than that, and that is one of the many reasons I loved her.
I often wonder how the others see me. I don’t exactly see myself in a flattering light, because I know, only too well, that I am a human being with many mistakes. But recently, my aunt died - I didn’t know very well, and it’s strange to remember all the vivacity stuffed in one measly jar of ashes, about to be put into ground. I haven’t known her for very long - in fact, I’ve known her for some 10 years, give or take a few. But what I will remember - forever - is her beautiful, kind eyes. The saying, that the eyes are the window to the soul, was true with her - her blue eyes, full of wisdom, warmth, humor and understanding, even if she had gone through hard times, lost her husband, reared two children and kept farm running. She had such a genuine warmth that it left the traces in her family - her son and daughter, and her four grandchildren - all of them have this special spark of loving and being loved well that it’s really hard to miss, even when they are in a group of strangers.
I am sad that she couldn’t dance with me at her daughter’s 50th birthday party. But she was already 80 years old, so I suppose she will just owe me a dance on the other side. I didn’t have a chance to get to know her better, because I was too young at the time, and then, the time ran away from us. But this passage above describes her so aptly, so easily, I couldn’t help but be reminded of her. Even if some would say that she was just a farmer’s wife, maybe not worldly at all, but for me, it doesn’t matter. She was a great woman - giving to the people - giving them her warmth, understanding, hope and love - so much, that her last gift to the world, her family, remains a proof how can one woman’s love, strength, faith and patience give to world six amazing people who would continue her legacy. Her photo in front of her jar of ashes looked pale, even paltry in comparison with her soul, her very spirit.Â
I hope that someday, on my own funeral, people would say the same. I may not be like her, because I have my own way, but I hope that at least in my stories, I could give forward at least the small kernel of warmth from those days I am now spending with my loved ones, no matter how much they frustrate, anger, amuse, surprise, sadden and most importantly, love me. My love for the moment, is prickly like a hedgehog, and about as awkward. But for all the prickliness, there is something gentle and soft that wants to be given, just because it could be.
