Tags
aging well, Healing after hurt, how our lives are lived, Remembering those who have died, when someone dies
I’ve always loved watching tiny hummingbirds quickly wing their way though my backyard.
So, a hummingbird china musical box was an exquisite and fitting birthday gift from my mother.
Shortly after she died, it fell, the base breaking in multiple places.
Although crazy glue does work wonders, much of it was shattered beyond repair.
With its carefully glued together broken side turned inward, it still graces my bookshelf.
On days when I miss her intensely, I turn the music key, close my eyes and recall the day I received it.
As its musical box song plays, it is accompanied by my mother’s voice softly singing along, when she lovingly held my hand that held the figurine.
Life’s Brokeness
The broken hummingbird not only holds memories of my mother, but it has revealed an embedded metaphor for aging well.
As we age, bits and pieces of our outward body break down or break off. Repairs are made, but nothing can quite put us back together, quite the same way.
We are all chipped and broken.
Yet, when the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that something becomes more beautiful when it suffers damage, for it has a history.
Within our worn out and mend together bodies, we each house a beauty of unique lives, filled with a history of memories.
No matter how much golden crazy glue is required to keep my outward body presentable, my golden threads still sparkle.
While my irreplaceable life song will be missing from life, when I am gone, my inherent value will lay in the golden memories embedded in those who loved me.
Despite my multiple mended life cracks, as I live a life into crescendo, I can still play my golden life melody.
Just like you.
Live Life in Crescendo 
This is such a beautifully written, thoughtful piece. It’s like it lodged inside me and soothed an ache I didn’t know I had — the ache of loss for the physical body I once had. I read it again and again, then bookmarked it to read yet again. Thank you.
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With the passage of time, and the creation of body wounds, there is indeed an ache for the physical body we once had. I often reflect that my mother must have felt this ache, yet I considered her lovely; I never knew that body she was aching for. So it is for those who meet me today. A truth and yet, still the ache remains. Thank you for the thoughtful comment. I read it more than once. I know you too are singing a golden life melody.
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