This strange sanctuary

I wrote this poem a little over a year ago, and since it is November, I thought it was fitting to share it, since I haven't, yet.

Sanctuary

We get out of the car,
our feet meeting the faded
stained-glass luster of the
trees’ fallen leaves.

Requiem æternam

The sound of the leaves underfoot
formed a hushed, rustic melody,
a forest’s reverent praise.
With that rich, earthy smell of Autumn
filling the air like incense,
we walked among the lichen-laden gravestones.

dona eis Domine;

I watched Mommy and Daddy for a moment,
quiet as they knelt down
and began to rub charcoal on paper
placed over the stone,
preserving the dies natalis there.

et lux perpetua

I wander off, feeling quite at home
in this strange sanctuary –
dark, yet soft and deep and
aching beneath the earth,
memories and unspoken prayers
hanging in the frosty air
like our own breath.

luceat eis.

Then I find what I seek –
a child is buried here.
A little one, like me.

Requiescant in pace.

Here lies one, just such a one,
with whom I feel a kinship.
A silver thread links us,
a mirror across the years.

“I wonder what she looked like,” I think.
If she loved dressing up, as I do.

A leaf’s touch of sorrow for this young life
brushes against me.

Across the expanse of time,
rolling out like prairie grasses,
a comforting smile is caught,
and shared,
and kept and pondered within my heart.

Amen.





















Requiem æternam dona eis Domine;
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Requiescant in pace. Amen.

‒ a traditional Catholic prayer for the dead.

Translated:

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and may perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace. Amen.

*dies natalis – Latin for “day of birth”; in Church use, it refers to one's day of death, that is, birth to eternal life.

*November is the month of the Holy Souls, when we especially remember and pray for the dead.

Lest we forget: Memorial Day 2010

Memorial Day 2010

The Field of the Slain, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan

To all men and women who have given their lives in military service to our country: thank you. Without your sacrifices, America might not be here today. Or at least, not be as she is today. True is the maxim "Freedom isn't free." May we always see freedom as the freedom to do and be good, and not as the freedom to "do anything." I am continually sickened to see how the poisonous ideologies that you fought against are permeating our culture more and more. Beloved dead: pray for us, as we pray for you. You are not forgotten, may God grant you peace.

And to all now dead who fought in our nations battles, here at home and abroad, but were not killed at war, we thank you and remember you, too. My Grandfathers Charles and Robert are my most immediate connection to veterans, in this case World War II. Both returned home. Grandpa Bob entered at the tail end of the war, and didn't see much. In which case, I am thankful, as perhaps otherwise Daddy might not be here...then I would not. Grandpa Charlie witnessed a lot, and was haunted for the rest of his days by his memories of war. He never did talk about it much to my mother, his daughter.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

.......................................

Poem: "In Flanders Fields," by John McCrae, written 1915, during World War I.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

................................

The Red Cross (allegory of Flanders war graves), by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan


Archangel Michael trampling Satan, by Guido Reni



Our Lady of Peace, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan



St. Joan of Arc, Medieval, artist unknown

.............................

Christ Jesus, Prince of Peace, have mercy on us.
Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.
Mary, Queen of Peace, pray for us.
St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.
St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.

Keep our soldiers safe.

Grief.

It's been a little more than a week, now, since I learned of Catriona's death. It's not been easy. I haven't cried every day, since I have been trying not to think of her all the time. I know if I did, I'd just start crying again. Last night, earlier today, and a few other nights, though...I have cried a lot. Cried myself to sleep, even. It just hurts. A lot. Not much can be done about that. I would say a few more things about her, about it all, but not right now. I don't feel like crying again right now. sigh.

Maybe later I will.

It just hurts. I miss her so much. And as soon as I wrote that, tears well up...

sigh again.

Thank you for your kind words, and for caring. Your love is as a balm to my wounds. Please keep me and my family in your prayers, still, as we continue to heal and to grieve.

A hole in my heart

Well, I'm home now. I'm glad to be home.
But...

there is a hole in my heart now.

You see, when I got home, I was sat down and gently told that one of our cats had to be put down a week ago.




They didn't tell me right away because they didn't want to distract me from my finals or ruin my end-of-the-year fun last week. My parents were right in not telling me until I got home. I would have been a wreck otherwise, unable to do much of anything, enjoy anything, or find motivation to study or finish that paper.

But ....omg.

I've already cried and cried and cried. No, it's not Wayne, who was very sick earlier this year. This one was completely unexpected. It's Catriona.


Catriona. She had seemed ill, so Daddy took her to the vet. Who told us that he was 98% sure she had a disease, I forget its name, but it's usually inherited at birth, and won't show (if it does) for 6 or so years. And it's fatal. There's no cure.

Catriona was a little more than 6 years old, about.

Oh, my baby, my beautiful baby girl..........!!!!

They had to put her down then because the vet said it was highly likely she could die while my parents were away in Chicago, packing me up to come home. Plus, she would suffer needlessly.


My heart hurts. Oh, my heart hurts. When I say I'm crying right now, I am not kidding. This is literally a nightmare come true. I've had dreams where we've lost one or more of the cats, and more than once I've woken up with my face wet from crying in my sleep.

Only this time, I am awake. And it is not a dream.

Though I keep expecting to see her walk down the hallway, or jump on the kitchen stool, to see her on the sofa, anywhere...somewhere.................how can this be real???


Silver has lost his best friend.

Our little Roly-Poly Girl is gone. (She would roll over on her back when she happy.)

She chirped at the birds out the window the most. No more will I hear that.

No more will I hear her sweet little voice when she meowed, her loud purrs, or do her little "trick" (stand up on her hind legs and jump a little)....

No more will I see her warming herself under a lamp in the living room, or in the sunlight.

No more will she bang open a door to "let" herself in, as if to say "I am HERE." Oh, you funny girl...

No more will I hear her funny-and-annoying, loud, she-demon-cat growl when she felt her "bubble" had been intruded upon.

No more petting her silky soft fur, holding her itty-bitty paws...

No more having her eagerly ask to be brushed if she saw the brush be gotten out.

No more little "conversations" with her...

Oh, my God! Why? Why?

For all the wonderful things this past school year has brought, it sure has been a painful one, too. So many things lost...

And now, my sweet little kitty girl! Oh, these tears are bitter indeed. And these words are so inadequate. So inadequate.

I know Jesus and Mary are delighting in you, little girl. I love you and miss you so much, my beautiful baby kitty girl, Catriona. I wish I could at least have said good-bye and hugged you and told you I loved you one last time. It hurts so much that I didn't get to. But I know you know I love you, and that Daddy and Mama do, too. Give Corie and Lloyd my love for me.

I love you forever. And I will miss you so, so much. <3

Lady Catriona Marie Velvet Grey

August 2003- May 4th, 2010

"Nothing of what is is lost. It is not lost to God, nor to us."

~ from the book Grieving With Grace (quote found online by me several months ago)

To repeat in each of us

Christ Himself vouchsafes to repeat in each of us in figure and mystery all that He did and suffered in the flesh. He is formed in us, born in us, suffers in us, rises again in us, lives in us; and this not by a succession of events, but all at once: for He comes to us as a Spirit, all dying, all rising again, all living. We are ever receiving our birth, our justification, our renewal, ever dying to sin, ever rising to righteousness.

John Henry Cardinal Newman, From the sermon ‘Righteousness not of us, but in us’ (1840) Click here for the full text

I hate not knowing what will happen

....and so I wait. And so we wait, my parents and I.


Does he recover and live? God, he's not quite 6 years old! Still a young kitty....

Or does he succumb to this sickness and die, leaving us here bereft and weeping?

Oh my darling Wayne, how I love you.

I know in my heart that I would see him again, that in Heaven, God catches up all His creatures in His loving embrace, and delights in them. He forgets not the least sparrow...

But not yet! No, not yet. How can God want Wayne back? What would Nicholas do?? They are best friends, and I know some cats and other animals grieve so extremely they stop eating....they starve themselves....

Come to think of it, some people do that sort of thing, too. sigh.



Does this post remain just my fears and desperate pleas?

Or does it become one of nightmare made real, a post "in loving memory of..." with more bitter tears streaming down my face?

Oh, God, please! I know this is so small a thing, in comparison with other things, other prayers. My loss would be so slight compared with say, the cross that Haiti now bears....

but still I ask. Still I plead. Still I weep and hurt, all my insides twisting with fear and dread....

and here I am, so far from home.

Keep my little Wayne in your arms, sweet Mary, our Mother. Mother of all things, I know you do not spurn my prayers or tears. Instead, you weep with me. Please, please pray for my baby Wayne. I entrust him into your care, along with the loving intercession also of Sts. Francis and Clare of Assisi, St. Martin de Porres, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, Bl. Kateri Tekakwitha, St. Brigid of Kildare, St. Gertrude and St. Jude. And yes, Michael - who loved animals so dearly, please pray. All ye holy angels of God - please, spare a prayer for my Wayne.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, despise not my pleas! Look with mercy on us, my family and me, and grant healing to Wayne, a beloved member of our family since we took him in August of 2004.

Amen.

As so freaking hard as it is for me to say this: Thy will be done.


I love you forever, my little Waynie-pooh. No matter what.

This is Wayne as a kitten, on the very first day we brought him home in 2004. He was exploring the house, and here we caught him talking about it all. He has since grown into a big boy and is still very vocal.

(l-r) Wayne and Nicholas, best buddies. This was before Nicholas grew a large fluffy "mane" around his neck, apparently, so Nicholas is still somewhat a kitten.

Wayne over Christmas break, looking cute in a funny position while he sleeps.