In Memoriam

Very early this morning--at 2:20 a.m.--marks the 45th anniversary of my mother's death.   Flora Severini Kowinski bore three children, my sisters and me, and lived to know one grandchild.  Eventually there were three grandchildren, all girls.  Now there are five great-grandchildren, all boys but one.

Despite the technical difficulties in rescuing this old print, this is the best photo I ever took (you need to click on it to get the entire photo.)  That's my mother, my sister Kathy and grandfather facing the camera, with my sister Debbie facing them.  I took this squeezing between the sink and the table in my grandparents' tiny kitchen, out of which came so many wonderful meals.  I caught a moment in their card game--such spontaneous moments weren't often considered appropriate for photos back then.

At this time of year I often wish we'd had more time, especially in the middle and later years of my life when I had enough perspective to hear about her life.  But the opening lines of the second Merwin poem I posted had special and specific meaning for me as this anniversary arrives:

  All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know