We Remember Them
We
remember them in the rising moon
We
remember them in the blowing wind
We
remember them in the fallen tree
And
they too shall live
We remember them in the
rising moon
We
remember them in the mourning dove
I
remember you singing evermore...
Words
and music by Trish Bruxvoort Colligan
©2005 RainDancerMusic; Used by permission.
www.spirations.com www.riversvoice.com
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This song was
inspired by the Jewish prayer-poem
of the same title:
At the rising sun
and at its going down
we remember them.
At the blowing of
the wind
and in the chill of winter
we remember them.
At the opening of
the buds
and in the rebirth of spring
we remember them.
At the blueness of
the skies
and in the warmth of summer
we remember them.
At the rustling of
the leaves
and in the beauty of the autum
we remember them.
At the begining of
the year
and when it ends
we remember them.
When we are weary
and in need of strength
we remember them.
When we are lost
and sick at heart
we remember them.
When we have
decisions that are
difficult to make
we remember them.
When we have joy
we crave to share
we remember them.
When we have
achievements
that are based on theirs
we remember them.
For as long as we
live, they too will live,
For they are now a part of us,
as we remember them.
--From The
Gates of Prayer
We Remember Them is about one of life's greatest transformations:
death. Death can be a challenging topic to approach as we come to the
table with so many different experiences and feelings about death.
A tradition I've come to love over the last few years if called
Day of the Dead. Day of the Dead is a Mexican holiday remembering
and celebrating those who have died. November 1st is a day of celebration
reserved just for children, November 2nd is for adults. In our culture death
and celebration may feel like an oxymoron (especially when we think of children
dying), but in Mexico it is a head-stone scrubbing, gravesite-dancing, break-out-the-chocolate-
and-Bloody-Mary-mix event. Ah, and it is so remarkably life-giving and healing.
Why do they do this?
It's quite simple, really. They do it to remember. What their culture gains in
addition is an overall more integrated, less frightening experience of death.
Or as this
article says, there is an historical "understanding of the continuity
of life."
To learn more here are some
other really great pictures
and stories about Day of the Dead
that are well worth the visit.
I can't help but wonder how my own ideas about death would be different had I grown up in a culture that celebrated this ritual.
For the last few years, my
husband Richard has been invited to provide music for the Day of the Dead
Celebration at United Theological
Seminary in the Twin Cities of Minnesota, his alma matter. Last year's celebration was particularly poignant for our family. Just a few weeks earler on October 4th, my aunt committed suicide. At age 50 she left behind a husband and two young daughters who were both engaged to be married.
When Day of the Dead rolled around a few weeks later our hears were still tender and fresh with grief.
Though I wasn't able to attend the UTS Day of the Dead celebration with
Richard, he took with him my aunt's funeral service bulletin and a photo to
place on the community altar that the gathering would be creating together. On
his drive back home, Richard and I chatted about the service. He tried to
remember a line or two from the Jewish prayer listed above: "We remember
them in the rising moon," he said.
Anything with a moon
reference immediately draws me in. As soon as we got off the phone I did an
online search to see what I could find. Without any difficulty I located the
poem and found the one line that Richard recited was not even in the poem! It
did, however, become the first line in the song.
Writing We Remember Them
was like a fast and furious birth. I dove in right away and finished it the
next morning right upon waking. While pounding away on the piano I looked
through tears at the autumn leaves and thought of my aunt and her family. I
tried to recall every memory I had of my aunt, as well as the phone call from my
mother the morning of her death, her funeral, and the conversations I'd had
with family since. I played and I played, remembering the names of my own and
other's deceased loved ones.
Often it is months or even
years after writing a song that I will record it. But as it was with the
writing, this song seemed to want to come right away. Richard and I went into
the studio and recorded it a few days later. As soon as it was done I began
emailing the MP3 and lyrics to anybody I thought might be even remotely interested.
The stories that came back
to me were most amazing. I heard stories of the living who desperately fear
death, afraid they will be forgotten. I got to "meet" departed
children, parents, spouses and partners, pets, siblings, friends, and grandparents.
Some of these departed were true beloveds, and others were disliked and even
despised. The remembering was not always comfortable, yet it seemed to always
bring a gift.
It is in this spirit of gifted remembering I offer We Remember Them in honor of all those with whom you have walked who are gone but not forgotten. May you receive just what you need for your healing.