Thursday, November 11, 2010

Death, Release, Cornbread, Love

I am all over the fucking map today.
Well, right here at home. I mean, in my own crazy head. And in the yard. My own crazy yard.

This cold wants to linger and it's set up camp in me. Every day I check it and say, "So hey- when are your planning on packing up and leaving?" And it looks at me through mean bleary eyes and says, "Aah, not sure. Pretty comfy right here."

I'm making a big salad and a cornbread to take over to Kathleen's. I've let the chickens out and given them their scratch. I've talked on the phone.

And I'm thinking about my husband's Aunt Elizabeth.

She died yesterday after having a stroke a few days ago and I am so proud of her for going on. She would have hated to linger. She would not have tolerated not being able to take care of herself. She was one of my favorite people in the world.
She would have been ninety-four next month. She lived a good, long life.
She said YES! to life. She had one of the truest hearts I've ever met and a wicked good sense of humor. She didn't tolerate bullshit and she wasn't prejudiced against anyone and I am so glad I got to know her.
Here's a picture of Mr. Moon with her when we visited her in Utah a few years ago.

She was his daddy's big sister and she was a tall woman. A Moon Woman, like my daughters Lily and Jessie, like their Aunt Brenda. Strong, strong genes there.

This isn't an obituary, it's not even a tribute, it's just a little love-note to a woman I loved, who was a loving woman. She went through hardships I can't imagine and she never lost her smile, her ability to go on, her hard-working, deep-loving ways.

And I just love the idea of her spirit set free in those rugged insane mountains in St. George, Utah which she loved so much. She was born in Tennessee but she found her way to St. George and she was happy there.

I am grateful I knew her. I am grateful her genes are ones that some of my kids share. And my grandson, too. My womb knew what it was talking about when I met Mr. Moon. Trust the womb, babies. Trust the womb.

So. That's today. Or this morning at least. I'm not grieving. I am grateful that Aunt Elizabeth got to live the way she wanted for all those years and then, when she couldn't have done that anymore, she tripped on the rainbow, she shuffled off her mortal coil and flew free.
Ah-yah. I would wish that for all of us.
I would wish that all of us had her intelligence, her spirit, her humor, her joy.

I am making cornbread, I am making salad. I am going to go see Kathleen and Judy. It is a beautiful day. I am celebrating that and I am celebrating my husband's father's sister.

I am going to try today to live as joyfully as I can in their honor.

Amen and hallelujah. The mountains and hills of Elizabeth's beloved Utah, those crazy, ancient, wind-carved stones of beauty are standing tribute, too. They may not know it, but they are, and her bones will be, in one way or another, part of theirs.


  1. Beautiful -- thank you for sharing a bit of Elizabeth with us. And my condolences to you and Mr. Moon --

  2. a beautiful tribute. it sounds as if hers was a life fully lived. god bless.

  3. It's a really nice little love-note...

  4. Hey Ms Moon - you have just posted on P's blog - wow - you look hot in that new pic of yourself

    P is still alive - juss real busy an' all

  5. that..again ..was a pretty view inside your day...thank you for sharing

    and..uhm..will i get some cornbread too??? meow*

  6. Elizabeth- Thank-you, sweet woman.

    Angella- It was. A very full life.

    Leslie- She would have smiled.

    Mr. P- Haha! I pulled you from your den.

    Danielle- Of course. All the cornbread and biscuits you could want.

  7. I hope similar things can be said about me at the end of my time here.

    HUG to you Mrs Mary Moon.

    ( and like i do to Lola, sneak back in for another HUG )

  8. What a lovely tribute to read. She sounds like a great woman.

  9. All Elizabeth's must be special. My mother was one as well. She lived to make 95. Wonderful tribute.

    We are having batter bread tonight. Yum.

  10. I'll bet those Moon family reunions were a hoot. Aunt Elizabeth sounds like someone I'd love to know.

    I wish her safe passage and blessings for whatever is next.

  11. Maggie May- I would hug you bigger than the world. Many times.

    Lora- She was SOMETHING!

    Syd- I have come to think that name is a blessing. Seriously.

    Ms. Fleur- And I was always the tiny mouse amongst the giants.

  12. My mom's name is Elizabeth, too. She died twelve years ago from a massive stroke when she was just past 75. I was sorry to lose her so young, but she was like Mr Moon's Aunt Elizabeth, she wouldn't have liked being around if she couldn't have her independence. And she was tired out. Having ten kids will do that to you.

    I can see why this made your sweet Mister Moon cry. It is a lovely tribute. x0 N2

  13. I bet that cornbread was beyond delicious.
    This tribute to Mr. Moon's daddy's sister is lovely.

  14. N2- Those Elizabeths! They are something else. I am glad you had one too.

    Angie M- Mr. Moon came from a most incredible family.

  15. I love this look into Elizabeth's life - thank you. That makes me wonder what kind of a legacy I'm leaving for my nieces and nephews.

    And I recognized those wind-ripped red rocks as soon as you posted them. My dad's family is from southern Utah (and I'm only a few hours away in Salt Lake City), so those rocks are like home to me. I have aunts and uncles in St. George, and that's beautiful country. It's no coincidence that the national park down there is called Zion.

  16. What a wonderful thing to write. Happy that she was so brave. That is just great.

    And trusting the womb - took me a long time to stop thinking. Still not sure I can always. I will remember that phrase. Trust the womb. My womb picks Babes and just look at the wonderfulness of my children. I suppose it should have been trusted all along.

  17. This is a beautiful tribute. She must have been quite a lady.

    Love you!

  18. My husband's Great-Aunt Edith just died today. Your memories and thoughts about Elizabeth make me smile.


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