Remembering Mahonyha

Dear Selina,
So sorry to hear of Mahonyha's passing, although you are right to think in terms of honoring her spirit and celebrating her beautiful life.
Just as Patrick Bronte had to bury his wife and all six of his children, including Emily, Charlotte and Anne, parents sometimes have to do the unthinkable. You are all very much in my thoughts and prayers as you have been ever since I heard of Mahonya's condition - alas, seemingly too late to approach it with enough of a time span.
Blessings.
Steve

~MAHONYHA~
The dawn of the day was overcome with deep sadness and sorrow.
Your soul escapes the beauty of your body with softness and grace.
As the day awakens your gentle touch still whispers around with courage and trust.
Breezes of your sweet scent surrounds us with comfort and peace as we memorize your exquisiteness; still and silent.
With each rising morning and in the shadows of each evening, your precious soul is present and the essence of your strength fills all space.
With much love
Your sister, Molly
xoxoxo

There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon‐bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk‐white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends. Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk‐white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.

Shel Silverstein