The Dragonfly: an Inspiration of Remembrance , livre ebook

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53 pages

English

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These memories woke up the mourning life in me to brighter days. It gave me the strength and endurance to write this hoping it would relieve the sorrow and place it in an optimistic and affirmative light and keep my late adult son alive within me.
This is a heartwarming memoir about love and loss through the heart and soul of a mother who painfully but bravely circumvented around grief after the sudden loss of her adult son to keep his memory alive. The symbol of the delicate, mystical dragonfly, the stories, poems, and letters she generously and compassionately shares, will bring tears to your eyes, induce a chuckle, and find consoling comfort. You will journey through her loss in an enlightening and empowering manner. Reminiscing about her son's childhood, adulthood, marriage, and fatherhood will joyfully allow you to get to know him personally. Strength and bravery through her wise and worthy advice on ways to accept, embrace, and traverse contentedly through loss is the main motive. This personal narrative about grief encourages and offers life does not end at death. It is a resplendent account of dealing with loss and finding eternal love. Anyone who has experienced a loss of any nature, will find this extraordinary book rewarding and gratifying. Through her caring advice on ways to navigate courageously through heartbreak and loss will make your heart lifted up by dragonfly wings.

Sujets

Vie de famille

Relations familiales

Famille

Self-help

Informations

Publié par	AuthorHouse
Date de parution	31 mars 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9798823005197
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE DRAGONFLY: AN INSPIRATION of REMEMBRANCE

Helena C. Farrell

AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: 833-262-8899

© 2023 Helena C. Farrell. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/31/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-0520-3 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0519-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS
Dedication
Prologue

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty

Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About The Author

Death be Not Proud, 1609
~ John Donne, English Poet
Blessed are those who Mourn for they will be comforted
~ Beatitudes

DEDICATION
This is dedicated to my late son, Michael Joseph Lota and those who have experienced a loss.

The dragonfly gave motion to the voiceless; my remembrance gives voice to his spiritual life Dragonflies have flown the earth for 300 million years, dragonflies symbolize our ability to overcome times of hardship. They remind us to take time to reconnect with our own strength, courage and happiness. May your heart be lifted by dragonfly wings.

PROLOGUE
The Prophet
A sadness came upon him and he thought.
How shall I go in peace and without sorrow?
Nay, not without a wound in the spirit . . .
How often have you sailed in my dreams . . .
And you alone, vast sea, sleepless mother,
Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,
Only another winding will this stream
make, only another murmur in this glad,
and then I shall come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless
ocean.
~ Kahlil Gibran
A GIFT OF JOY
Poem by Helena C. Farrell written to her young son Michael
Delicate as porcelain is his skin. Like a blue sea, clear and bright are his eyes. Sandy hair so light to touch, but oh, that cowlick so hard to brush. Sensitive, talkative, happy are his moods. Almost four and his friend Tom Thumb he will not lose. Now comfort and security claim his friend Tom. But not for long, I feel in my heart, for baseball and fishing his hands will soon tame. He fills my heart with a sweet dove’s song. Take care, he is precious. I sense he can break. Dear God thank you for blessing me with this special gift, Michael. A son I adore and angels guide his soul.
~Your loving mother

CHAPTER ONE
His Grief he will not forget, but it will not darken his heart.
~ J. R. R. Tolkien
Serenity, peace, solitude, and remembrance. Sitting solitary on a special memorial bench in a quiet, verdant, lush, forested area overlooking an oval- shaped, glistening pond, with a graceful sprouting fountain in the center. The pond and surrounding area is bathed in the afternoon light. I am flooded with memories. Magically, a beautiful rainbow arches over the glimmering, mirror-like water. A proud, stately, colorful mallard slowly glides by followed by his dutiful mate while a few languid ducks follow. Surely, they are feeling at home in this tiny piece of heaven. Nature is fascinating, complex, entrancing and healing. Since it is late spring, the sun is warming my stoic face. As I sit here pondering over the last challenging six years, my thoughts flutter to and fro. A mixture of laughter, anger, love, regret, joy, and immense grief infiltrates my scattering thoughts. I am startled hearing laughter, taking me out of my meditation. Looking up, I observe a young man with two little boys holding fishing poles in hands, walking toward me. The man calls out to the anxious boys, “Stop running, you’ll trip and fall.” The larger boy responds, “Don’t worry dad; we’re okay.” “Stop by that tree. The fish are plentiful there:” the father calls out to his sons.
In front of me, a massive Weeping Willow tree, rooted solidly in the ground with mammoth, unyielding branches gracefully sweeps over the luminous pond welcoming inquisitive, excited children to safely climb on its inviting sturdy limbs or to fish near it. The restless boys place their fishing poles down near this particular tree. With help from their father, the sons proceed to bait the hooks preparing to throw their fishing line into the pond. Their restless anticipation of catching a fish is palpable. The ducks quickly evacuate the area once they realize there will be no bread thrown by the children. Catching a fish is their goal . The father and his youthful sons take no notice of me sitting behind them on the bench facing the magical Weeping Willow tree. At first, I take exception to their intrusion. I selfishly feel this is my special place; a place to connect with the past; to remember the familiar laughter; to hold on to my glorious memories. The smaller of the boys begins to cry. He is unable to throw his line as far out into the pond as his older brother; the father quickly intervenes. “Christian,” he explains: “You shouldn’t get upset because Michael’s line went out further; there are plenty of fish along the edge.” Hearing the father call out the names, I instantly feel lightheaded. My mind reverts back to that unforgettable, unfathomable night when my life forever changed.

THE BENCH
Come sit beside me and take my hand. Lets share our memories from year after year
While our lives have changed in so many ways.
It’s your hand I will hold the rest of my days . ~ Christmas Bench ornament, Roman

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