A Jewish family Karnofsky, who immigrated from Lithuania to the United States, took pity on the 7-year-old boy and brought him to their home after being sent to a delinquent home for coloured boys at the age of just 5 💔 There he stayed and spent the night in this Jewish family home, where for the first time in his life he was treated with kindness and tenderness. When he went to bed, Mrs Karnovski sang him Russian lullabies, which he sang with her. Later he learned to sing and play several Russian and Jewish songs. Over time, this boy became the adopted son of this family. Mr. Karnofsky gave him money to buy his first musical instrument, as was the custom in Jewish families. Later, when he became a professional musician and composer, he used these Jewish melodies in compositions such as St. James’s Hospital and Go Down Moses. The little boy grew up and wrote a book about this Jewish family, who adopted him in 1907. And proudly spoke Yiddish fluently. In memory of this family and until the end of his life, he wore the Star of David and said that in this family he learned “to live a real life and determination.” This little boy’s name was Louis Armstrong 💙 #itsawonderfulworld #louisarmstrong #jazz #diversityandinclusion #loveislove
So I am up and down on this next rollercoaster ride. A rocky ride of grief. My hero is resting and finally at peace. I still struggle believing it to be honest. His presence remains in every room of my family home. I sense him with me much of the time.
Sadly the potted rose I placed by his resting place has now withered and died. I realise I didn’t really think that through..didn’t consider beyond the day of his funeral. Why didn’t it occur to me that it would need water, nourishment, love and attention.?…just like he did …. and like we all do. I’ve a plan to plant a yellow rose in his garden at the house . Yellow was his favourite colour. Matched his glass half full sunny nature. Even had this attitude at the end. I know there it will get the attention and nurturing it needs, right where he said goodbye.
They say this gets easier in time. I go about my business , trying to keep busy, finding distractions …but it comes in waves…like a sudden cooling on my soul. A piece of music, a colour, a smell and I’m right there by his bedside. I saw the exact same rose bouquet I placed in his room days before he passed. It was beautiful upon a neighbours dining table. Made me sob suddenly realizing it’s scent was something I’ll never forget now. Every Robin and Butterfly makes me think it’s him…even the one who flew head first into the kitchen window. I figured he was in training !?😃
It feels so surreal saying “Morning” to his smiling face by my bed …then I fight back the tears ..how long does that last? I know it’s only a few weeks but I want it to hurt less now. Life’s consistently surprising me in the way it just romps on as if nothing has happened. I feel I didn’t prepare myself for this stage. Grieved him for years but when his physical presence actually left it was still a shock….The way my Mum is holding up is remarkable..I am, of course, helping by removing black bags of clothing and shoes. His favourite suits she asked repeatedly if she could get rid off. As if hoping for some miracle cure he would say a flat No! So they stayed in the wardrobe he’d never see again as stairs were a thing of the past. Same with his golf shoes. Same with his ties and his running shoes. What the fuck happened?.Why did it have to be him!?
So many utter shits go through life unscathed and healthy despite treating their own bodies with so little respect. Then my health conscious Papa gets a disease so cruel and debilitating and with no known cure.
Now I’m not a particular believer in there being an almighty “God” ..much less so now that’s for sure. But I’m spiritual and believe in Karma and there being an afterlife better than this one. So I trust I’ll see him again for a hug one day and see the twinkle in those brown eyes and the humour on his lips. He will call me by my nickname again and touch my cheek. He will make me laugh again and I’ll hear his unique natural giggle. He will ask me to help on a crossword clue knowing I’ve no idea…If there was a God the last 15 years wouldn’t have been such a downward spiral of pain, anguish and suffering…he would have been spared the worst of all humiliations. If there is a God he is not on my Christmas list 😒
So in my determination to keep busy I started a Zumba class…gutted not to have shed my excess stone in weight gained during lockdowns….after 2 sessions shouldn’t I have dropped a dress size?
Love Zumba, movement,music and the fluidity of salsa. This recent session was hard in more ways than the humidity and the fact I throw myself around like I baby elephant in a mud pool.
The amazing teacher had said she’d tried to print off a translation to the warm down track…a moving and heart wrenching tale of motivation, love and reality….she was tearful describing it herself. The gist is we are planted as a seed in the dark and grow into the light. We are not as good as we are going to be, there is more to come. There is a rainbow to be found after the storm. You can imagine how I started to feel listening to her translation. I had to move to closing windows to stop myself crying. Not entirely sure that’s the vibe I wanted to go home with . However I asked for the link and also the translation to the song and will share it here with you. It really is beautiful ❤️
I’m hoping you will enjoy it ☺️ Feedback would be lovely if you feel at all moved by it or anything else I’ve shared with you over the years . Your comments of encouragement are much preferable to the spam the filters save for my amusement…
No matter our ethnic make-up, social classification, marital status or religious beliefs, whether you are a parenting mother, bereaved mother, married mother, divorced mother, single mother, step mother, adoptive mother, birth mother, foster mother, or a widowed mother, this blog is to support all mothers and the reproductive choices women make.