we tell our stories

My mother’s last illness began this time of year in 2003 and she was called Home in early 2004.  I spent much time with her at a hospital and nursing home in Milwaukee, with the glorious autumn colors outside our windows.  Her spirit grew ever-stronger.

This year, I am not sad.  I learned, however slowly, that love keeps growing – the love that transcends understanding. Good to rest in the Mystery a little more these days. 

I see my mother more as her own person now.  It was not easy for her to be born during World War I, grow up during the Depression, and then be a young wife during World War II.  These events were always a part of her personality.  It was good to buy her things she would not buy for herself.  We shall meet again.  She loved pansies.

we tell our stories

and find new hope

green leaves
change to their
colors of autumn

our stories
add new colors
to our souls

the leaves find
their way to earth
they find new purpose

the past teaches
the present
and we learn
(slowly for me)

that all is not lost

after all

for Enola

Images courtesy of Dover Publications: from Decorative Flower Designs.

20 thoughts on “we tell our stories

  1. Dear Ellen, thank you for sharing this lovely and moving tribute to your mother. It’s very beautiful. Ciao, Francina


  2. Absolutely lovely. My Mom died in 1987. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of her several times. She is tucked close to my heart. I can still remember her saying “Hi Sweets”. Sadly I think I have lost the sound of her voice, but I see her smile. Your tribute to your Mother has brought sweet memories to me this morning.


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