The last time I dreamt of my mother was a few days ago. She was dancing on a stage with three other women whom I didn't recognize. In the dream I remembered thinking I never knew she could move this way. The time before that I dreamt of her holding me, embracing me on an evening when I felt like I was the loneliest, unhappiest woman in the world. When I woke up from this dream I felt invigorated, hopeful, refreshed. I have since began embracing my new relationship with my mother. Though she is bodiless, I feel her energy. She wanders inside the spaces of my art and more than ever I love her - what she was and what she is now. Where in life I had closed doors on her in my heart and mind, those places are now fully open. I do not merely love the memory of her. I love the freedom inside of where she lives without the weight of what life and circumstances eventually did to her body. Her new presence inspires me to find the newfound freedom she has while I am in the prime of my life. The freedom we all seek to be our complete unfettered selves. It is a way I have found to honor the legacy of my ancestors.
I was a dreamer long before I claimed the identity of an artist. I was fortunate enough to be born into a family that encouraged me to achieve my brightest dreams. From the time that I was a small child I was taught by my parents that anything was possible. Learning at a young age that anything is possible meant that I was somewhat prepared for both greatness and devastation.
Though I long to feel the reality of my mother's physical arms wrapped around me just one more time to make me feel loved, forgiven and safe, I cherish those arms that embraced me in my dreams a couple of months ago far more. It has always been her spirit I've wanted to cling to the most. Her sense of humor, her imagination, her beauty, her wisdom, her grace. And while, just over a year later, I am still sad and at times angry that she, in the way I remember her, is no longer here, I think of her as she was a few days ago, dancing with such liberty with other women on a stage, and I recall the eternal reality of movement in any time, form or space, from one place to another.
Tiffany Osedra Miller (aka Bassagirl)
Mother's Day, 2009
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7 comments:
I know something about your experience, because I shared something similar over ten years ago.
My maternal grandparents are as dear to me as my parents; I spent the summers with them and I like to think that I inherited many of my traits and ideas from them. However, my grandmother first died, due to Alzheimers. My grandfather followed soon after, as he couldn't bear to live without her, after 50 years of marriage.
One night, I was driving from my home into London to visit my parents. It was one of those uniquely British winter nights, when the mist is extremely thick, and the cold runs right through you. My car was small, and I was afraid that I was going to be rear-ended or end up in an accident due to some maniac.
I started talking to my grandparents out of thin air. At the very least, this calmed me, and my journey was safe.
What I realised out of this is that beyond what scientists and theologians may say: love survives, love endures, even death cannot extinguish it.
I realise this must be a tough day for you. I hope that love, albeit remembered, comforts you still.
Yours ever, GC
A moving memory/memorial for Mother's Day. My family was not a family of hugs, remembering, staying in touch, but today, without specifically thinking about it, I posted a previously created image, and after I did so, and commented in text on the image, and looked at it, I thought of it being Mother's Day.
And the gift your mother, your family gave you? You have given it on to us all. With your words. In your art.
hm...
this post is so well written and so full of heart that it has forced me to think about "a lot of stuff". you know, i can relate to this post and the feelings which u are going through. when i see my father embracing me in my dreams i also get this same feeling. I feel safe. I feel the NEED to actually touch him one last time.
your paintings are great. bookmarked your blog. surely will visit.
peace
irtiza104
ok bassa tiffany:
now I will try to interpret your painting and your words: around her in your gorgeous painting, all is coloured, you see her in dark (because she died), but she is not in dark actually because she has inside her body 3 bottons that stand out and give a very strong outside light, she is your shadow, and your words describing your feelings give me a very deep emotion! Yes her remind have to help you to become more and more strong, take care dear friend!
I not sure what to say. This has to be one of the most touching articles I have ever read. I have my parents and fear the day when they will leave me. This gives me the proper perspective, you never lose your loved ones. They are always spirits that are temporarily maintain a physical being. Your mom loves you, supports you and encourages just s much as she always did. That is a beaitful thing to reflect on.
This has moved me in such a way that it's changed the perspective on my day.
I love this.
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Toni T. M. Taylor
You rock my world sister. The colors the shapes the poetry the freedom and wild inspiration - what can I say? You got it all!!!
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