Photo credit: unknown
If you are meeting her for the first time, do not be deceived by your first impression because your senses cannot gather all the fallen leaves and reassemble the broken branches into the magnificent tree that they once were. Imagine instead, a personality sculptured by memories and stories and whose true to the character would rise like a giant in front of you, in place of the sickly portrait your eyes are projecting in your mind. It won’t be easy to disregard the sight of her feeble frame or resist the hastening of judgement, but remain open to the realisation that may dawn on you eventually, that she is much stronger. You shall find, among her many virtues and vices, feminine grace personified.
If you are able to speak with her, measure not her kindness by the gentleness of her words, or think her grim if they are not carefully chosen. She is not averse to coating her words in honey; but they are often reserved for those whom she finds brittle of heart and weak of mind. Never her dearest loved ones have been spared from harsh critique. Yet, she will not break what cannot be mended, or take from what cannot be replenished. Though her words may sound forlorn, she never gave up on those whom she cared about or had patience for any whom she suspected might give up on her.
She touched many lives and changed some; more often than not, for the better. The most potent of all her gifts was a great capacity for storytelling. Those stories were always informed by a practical morality. She had a fine judgement of what was good and bad, but it was not merely a rigid extension of what she considered righteous or disdainful. It rather had the weight of a logical and informed assessment of actions and the full extent of their consequences. What guided her was a desire to take pride in what she did or created and a commitment towards the perfection of her fallible, yet redeemable human condition.
Of course, she never danced or ever prayed but from an inscribed prayer book. She sang, but only hymns from prescribed hymnals. Yet, she was neither dull nor unimaginative. She knew laughter and tears well; her own as well as those of others and how to cause as well as douse them. She had a deep intuition for recognising happiness and sorrow in another and a quiet and respectful empathy that was never intrusive.
She loved. She embraced love and cultivated it. If she faltered in the expression of her love, that is because she was never taught how to; and despite a lifetime of trying to learn, may not have been able to master it. Her love was not earned but freely given - but to a select few. It was never demanding or burdensome. Though judgemental at times, it was always forgiving.
She also feared. She was too afraid to disown the fears she had inherited. If she feared too much or too often; it was not that she was haunted, but rather because of the persistence of her fearful memories. Even as she struggled with each step out of darkness into the light, the more pronounced became the shadow that followed her.
Though she may not laugh or cry much anymore, that is not because she is senseless or humourless. Laughter still exists but outside of her body, trapped in a frame whose sinews are too feeble to express it. They tick and flex, like parts of an animated clock face removed from its shattered casing.
Be kind to her for she has been kind and generous. Be forgiving for she has never been vengeful. She may not teach you humility, but even the clothes she wear may bear signs of her wisdom. Learn from her all she has to teach for she carries memories from way beyond her years. Befriend and take good care of her. Your memories of her will be your reward.
No comments:
Post a Comment