Faded Remembrance


AprilRain
AprilRain
Contest Winning Photo

Walking out early one May morning, the red poppies weave amongst purple larkspur. Poppies blooming and Memorial Day approaching, Moina Michaels’ response to “Flanders Field” comes to mind. –


the lonely day
the lonely day
Contest Winning Photo

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.


but in reality
but in reality

In the few years past, we faced what has seemed to be unending sudden shocking deaths. Just when it seems that we are able to breathe again, another loved one answers the call home. Not all heroes in the conventional sense of the word, but still heroes in their own way. On this rainy morning, I recalled those loved ones, trying to remember some special quality. It soon became apparent that the recently departed were remembered by more tangible characteristics. I could picture their faces, hear the sound of their voices, sharply and crisply. While those more distant, it was just an essence – a color, a smell, a belief - the part of me that was shaped by that person. I instantly think of my grandmother with the smell of freshly pressed powder and the musty smell of an old book brings to mind my grandfather but cannot remember the sound of their voices. Despite all the protestations we make at the edge of the grave, our loved ones gradually fade from our memory. We never forget them, but the sharp edges of remembrance fray. And with that understanding, the Faded Remembrance series was born.


giving praise
giving praise
Contest Winning Photo

A very few have been fortunate to die at home peacefully after having lived out their lives. We die in service to others, helping out a neighbor, at work and sometimes at play. We die with our boots on in the field; sometimes ripped violently away from this earth; other times we just slip away from life. And for those of us remaining pledging to remember and keep faith, no matter how bruised our memories may be. And through all time we can be seen in the poppies.


If Today
If Today

The losses my own generation has suffered have been tragic, leaving holes in my heart which will be never filled. In the last few years, far too many have been lost to accidents, battlefields, neglect, disease. Following one after the other, we who are left behind fumble through each day. Years blurred as do moments in time. But I remember a survivor of the Holocaust saying that you just stay alive until you are able to live again. That is the message of the poppies. The wound of loss never goes away but scabs and scars develop, the sharp edges do fade, leaving the essence of happiness.