(23 Jan 2014) – Sometimes I wonder who will remember me or the words that fell from my mind as droplets on tear washed cheeks.
What about you? Who will remember you? The things you did or said? The things you DID NOT DO or DID NOT say?
Memories are what are left to one by those who have passed this way before and were a part of one's own Life's Journey. Memories are our legacy, in turn, to those who remain after our departure.
Albeit, memories will fade and dull with time and distance, one wonders what will live on. Perhaps there are 'pieces' of oneself that may be handed down through the years and generations – mayhap a photo, a diary, a blog, a YouTube video, a scrapbook, a memento, a set of tableware, glassware, linen, sports items, trophies, will find their way — or perhaps a Family Bible with the names of Family inscribed.
Below are some words by Tagore (1861-1941), the 1913 Nobel Prize Winner in Literature, in which he wonders too about being remembered.
Farther below, are three poems written by my maternal cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (1830 – 1886) on the theme of "Remembrance". Emily is well remembered worldwide -- across time and distance.
As you read this, perhaps you will think of the meaning of the words and ponder how they might apply to your own Life. Perhaps you can answer this question about yourself -- How do I want to be remembered?
Dorothy Hazel Tarr
From "The Gardener" by Rabindranath Tagore.
Who are you, reader, reading my poems a hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden, gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of a hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across a hundred years.
[Description--Tagore was the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. "The Gardener", is a book of prose. Most of the lyrics of love and life, the translations of which come much from Bengali are published in this book, and were written earlier than the series of religious poems contained in the book named Gitanjali. The verses in this book are far finer and more genuine than even the best in Gitanjali. For more on this subject, see the URL LINKS below.]
Poem #33 – Emily Dickinson
If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not.
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot.
And if to miss, were merry,
And to mourn, were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered this, Today!
Poem #1182 – Emily Dickinson
Remembrance has a Rear and Front –
'Tis something like a House –
It has a Garrett also
For Refuse and the Mouse.
Besides the deepest Cellar
That ever Mason laid –
Look to it by its Fathoms
Ourselves be not pursued --
Poem #1508 – Emily Dickinson
You cannot make Remembrance grow
When it has lost its Root –
The tightening the Soil around
And setting it upright
Deceives perhaps the Universe
But not retrieves the Plant –
Real Memory, like Cedar Feet
Is shod with Adamant –
Nor can you cut Remembrance down
When it shall once have grown –
Its Iron Buds will sprout anew
However overthrown --