When I first learned about Feast Days, I could not fathom why it marked the day of the person’s death.  I found myself wondering instead why it wasn’t on their birthday.  Now, as I struggle with the first anniversary of my beautiful Mama’s death, I finally understand.  She is at home with the Lord and at peace.  I want to honor her and celebrate her life.  She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and also the kindest.  She instilled in me a love of the written word, classical music, and flowers.  She was so quiet and so gentle but had a wit and humor that was unmatched.  I learned this poem reading it to her almost every day last year.  It was her favorite flower, one of her favorite poems, and by one of her favorite poets.  How I love you Mama.  This is for you:

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:  A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company:  I gazed – and gazed – but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. ~ William Wordsworth