We started our week with a funeral and ended it with a celebration of life. Each was for a woman who was an artist: one a professional singer, the other an amateur painter. We did not know either well, they were dear friends of friends. Monday evening we attended a Catholic mass for Maria, and even though the service and all but one eulogy were in Spanish, we were able to understand the priest and speakers' messages. Grief is a universal language. Hearing her songs sung in that sanctuary was a lovely last concert for a beautiful woman.
Saturday afternoon we attended a celebration of life for a quiet women from our congregation. Her house was full of family, friends and colleagues reminiscing about how much they enjoyed her company. It was also full of her watercolors and other artworks which I had heard of but not seen. I especially liked a larger-than-life closeup of an aloe, greenish grays and blues.
In our covenant group, Joyce was reserved, listening more than talking. Coincidentally our monthly meeting was Saturday morning, and the chalice lighting honored the friends who can be silent with us. She was comfortable being one of those friends.
I am almost exactly the middle age between when my mother (age 54, pancreatic cancer) and my father (age 88, old age) died. This week we celebrated two women who created beauty in their lives and shared it with others. What will be my legacy?
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