Zena Ward
nee Zenona Slonska
aka Zena Westreicher, Zena Hirka
( 28 April 1924 - 7 November 2007 )
New York City 1952
just a few thoughts. . . and images from a very full life.
one with much pain throughout - and for that I hold her in respect
but also much great joy -
and it is that - as reflected in a smile on her face, that i will forever cherish in my heart.
the modern cliche is - i am not religious, i am spiritual.
as for me - i am not spiritual, i am chemical.
this was one of two amazing humans whose chemicals joined to mix up this unit i have come to identify as my self.
this perspective doesn't play things down, it raises them... to physical reality, where touch lives!
my father passed away when i was 15... a hug from him now would beat any heaven or god.
there are those who feel without religion there can be no morals,
and that without the spiritual there can be no love. both are extremely silly notions.
there was much love between my mom and i.
and in the last few weeks, her health failing, we spoke often...
honestly, respectfully, by telephone - over the 1000 miles of geography that separated us us.
give hugs to the kids and a kiss goodnight to you, like i did when you were small... goodnight.
- the last clear words i remember her saying to me less than a week ago.
gentle and kind, from someone who was not sentimental, but rather known for her tough edges.
the list of differences and distances was long...
to be expected . . . she was a first generation ukrainian/polish immigrant to this country,
while i came of age in new york city in the revolutionary 1960s.
so many stories, so many memories come flooding to the surface.
always so many things left unsaid -
and thoughts in the future that will not be able to be shared.
for now i'll just keep walking
onward
through this overwhelm,
looking at ways to not go too gently towards that good night,
somewhere on the horizon.
in life, in art...
as b/4 & more,
aleXander hirka
with grandchildren... Noah, Aaron, and Martha (now 19, 15, and 17)
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listen . . .
•••••••••••••
and for those of us still here...
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas
read by Susan Sarandon
(click HERE to listen)
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
