The sun also rises on Mother's Day 2007 at Camelot-by-the-Sea this morning with some of Mummy's -- and our own -- favorite colors, blues, purples, lavenders, pinks and pale orange-yellows, framed by the dark silhouettes of Goomp's amelanchier and apple in the foreground and the awesome 19th-century summer cottages in the middle ground on Eastern Point across the river.
It's been over 13 years the family has carried on without that "incandescent light" that was our mother, Mary Elizabeth Loddy Jameson. As we mentioned in our previous post, we're having a real nice clambake -- or is it a lobster bake? -- in her honor with a gathering of some of Mummy's chickens down Goomp's this day.
"Her spirit watches over us in all things great and small: Mummy would have loved this. Mummy wouldn't have approved. Mummy would have been so proud. Remember when Mummy . . ." we wrote in a post commemorating the day that we lost her to something we'd never heard of outside of that maudlin movie about Lou Gehrig where the character played by Gary Cooper, already aware that he had what would come to be known as Lou Gehrig's Disease, said that he was "the luckiest man alive." Not.
In remembrance of her goodness, we republish here on this Mother's Day "The Measure of a Woman," our baby sister's totally awesome ode of joy to Mummy's life, with our own introduction from a December 7, 2004 post:
Impossible to believe she's been gone eleven years to the day. Our precious mother happened to depart this vale of tears on December 7, the anniversary of the day that would live in infamy in the nation's heart. In her family's heart Mary lives on, beckoning us all to be the best that we can be.
What is the measure of a woman's life? That she was beautiful and brilliant and beloved . . .
That every friend she ever made, from childhood on, has remained a friend forever . . .
That no one's sorrow escaped her notice or her tender concern . . .
That she was a loyal and loving wife . . .
That she was a devoted and proud and nurturing mother . . .
That she was a ridiculously indulgent and adoring grandmother . . .
That she loved music and art and literature and flowers and animals and bridge games and dear friends?
All of these things are a measure. But Mary's life was more than the sum of its parts. Her death has extinguished a most incandescent light.
The Measure of a Woman, tribute written by her daughter, Susan, for the memorial service held in Thanksgiving For The Life of Mary Loddy Jameson, December 19, 1993
Mummy.
Blue Indigo brings tears of joy and sadness.
Posted by: goomp | May 13, 2007 at 08:59 AM
Beautiful. She watches over you still.
As an adopted person with no familial ties, I can appreciate the continuity and veneration of loved ones gone before.
Happy Mother's Day!
Posted by: pam | May 13, 2007 at 10:35 AM
pam - you are welcome to join my family at any time. We are nuts (being Hungarian and all), but we're also great cooks, rightwing, and love a joyful time! Blood ties are no a requirement - we'll treat you JUST AS BADLY as those who are related by ancestry!
Sissy - I don't think we ever get over the loss of our parents - I know I never have really. I still think of my mother almost daily and know that despite my numerous messy situations since her death, she still loves me and wishes me well.
Posted by: Gayle Miller | May 14, 2007 at 02:55 PM
Beautiful post remembering your Mother.
Spent yesterday afternoon with both my parents who are 79 and 81. Yesterday was my Dad's birthday and my Mother was delighted it fell on Mother's Day this year.
I am so lucky I have both parents in good health at their ages.
Your Mother still watches over you with a loving embrace.
Posted by: Tara | May 14, 2007 at 08:41 PM