My mother passed away early this morning, May 1, May Day.
It's ironic that this is one of the days I always loved when I was a kid and each year I presented her with a May basket of wild flowers in a container fashioned from construction paper and an old tin can.
So, I give this thistle to my mother today, a wild flower that grows in the fields where we live, and a weed that the artist in her loved for the sheer beauty of its shape and color. An acknowlegement that sometimes life is full of prickers and things that hurt, but overall it's a beautiful gift.
This is something she knew all too well, and a lesson I need to keep in mind over the next few days and weeks as I adjust to a life without her calming presence.
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