A Line to the Goddess
Dear Goddess of the spreading starry skies … whose shawl is the northern lights … and whose shoes are the polar ice floes …. Lead us ever in circles … Don’t stop dancing with us … Should disastrous death try to cut in … like an asteroid tapping on your shoulder … keep whirling … We don’t mind if our toes get stepped on … We’re having the time of our lives … ~ Excerpt from “A Line to the Goddess,” a poem by Alex Wind.
My friend and Scrabble partner Alex, who died this past December of eye melanoma, was an only child; a daughter who had one daughter of her own, and one granddaughter. Alex was revolutionized in the presence of a Black Madonna with Child on a trip to Poland in the 1990’s, and she incorporated the experience in her art. For her Master’s in Fine Arts Thesis, she sculpted a life-size Black Madonna with child, which was on display at the opening of her memorial art show this past weekend at the Glade Church in Blacksburg. 
My Floyd friends, Katherine and Jayn, who have studied with the Machi (female shamans) of Chile, opened the show with a kultrun drumming and a four directions blessing. Alex’s husband, Paul, and I read selections of her poetry from the poetry booklet we worked on together, and then the chapel floor was opened up for the sharing of Alex stories, which highlighted her sense of humor, her love of animals, family, and art.
Even though Alex’s relationship with her own mother was less than ideal, the bonds between mother and child were an ongoing theme in her life and her art. The last thing I did before leaving the art show was to give Alex’s daughter, Chandra, a big hug. I whispered in her ear a reminder that her mother was as close as the very DNA she carries inside her body.
But I understand that Chandra is not likely to be comforted by the thought of such things at this early stage in her grieving. I remember after my brothers Jim and Dan died whenever someone would make a comment about them being “in a better place,” I’d think, “Where? Can you show me?” Even though I wasn’t convinced they were in a better place, I appreciated every effort, no matter how awkward, that each person made to acknowledge the loss I felt. Their caring intention transcended any words that were used. 
In the end, I was the one who was comforted but what I said to Chandra, because of what she said to me in return. After acknowledging that she still feels inconsolable, she said, “I’ve been so much more aware of and thankful for my daughter since losing my mother.”
I know Alex would be comforted to know that the love she had for her daughter will be passed on, and that her granddaughter, who seems to have inherited her grandmother’s artistic flair, will be cherished.
Photos: 1. Alex’s Black Madonna and Child sculpture. 2. One in a series of Black Madonna collage prints that Alex did and which are now on show at the Glade Church in Blacksburg. 3. Colleen, Katherine, and Jayn at Alex’s Memorial Art show.
Comments
Those pictures and statues are amazing. She was gifted.
That was a beautiful memorial.
HUGS!
Posted by: Nancy | February 20, 2007 10:12 AM
Let me say again, I love the way you honor your friends...those in this world and in another.
I first heard of the black Madonna when reading the Secret Life of Bees and then some of Sue Monk Kidd's other writings. Amazing what color can do.
I like Alex. Thank you for sharing her with me.
Susan
Posted by: Susan | February 20, 2007 12:06 PM
So sad for the daughter. Having lost my dad.. I too know how she feels. Your kind words may not have been able to relieve the grief but your kind heart and intentions will help her bear it with more ease.
Posted by: Coll | February 20, 2007 6:17 PM
It sounds like it was a lovely memorial, Colleen, and I love the Black Madonna Sculpture....
What you said to Alex' daughter is so true and is a very poetic way to put it, too...And what she said to you was very touching, too!
Posted by: OldOldLady Of The Hills | February 21, 2007 5:57 AM
I love the artwork.
I'm sure your presence and verbal contributions during that event were most helpful and heartwarming to your friend's daughter.
Posted by: Weary Hag | February 21, 2007 7:30 AM
Such a fine tribute to Alex. The first post I ever read of yours mentioned your scrabble games with you.
I love at funerals when they casually open the floor for sharing storues! That is truly a celebration of someone's Life and such a positive note with which to end a service. Guess it offers a weird type of "positive semi-closure" because it's not closure that is concrete....know what I mean? Maybe there's never complete closure on these things. Anyway, it's neat when people can walk away from a service and feel good.
Posted by: Ruth | February 21, 2007 8:14 AM
You are a wonderful friend to your friends Colleen!
Posted by: Deana | February 22, 2007 8:43 AM
I'm so sorry to learn about Alex's death. We knew each other in college, at ODU, as members of the Feminist Caucus. I admired her then, and I admire her now. Though her life was cut tragically short, it sounds as though she lived a very full life and left a legacy of people who loved her very much.
Posted by: Karen Stewart | March 17, 2007 1:33 AM
Thank you Karen. It's wonderful to hear from someone from Alex's past who knew how special she was.
Posted by: colleen | March 17, 2007 9:41 AM
Colleen, in the past few days I've been thinking a lot about Alex, and remembering things about her that perhaps you would like to know. I didn't know her well, but her personality was so magnanimous that everyone on campus knew of her. She had a black lab, whose name I don't remember, but the dog came with her to the ODU campus and waited faithfully outside the building while Alex was in her classes. The dog always had a bandanna around her neck. Everyone on campus knew Alex and her dog, because the dog was so friendly and incredibly loyal. This was around 1981 or so. Alex always had a smile, and I remember how friendly and kind she was to me. She had her daughter, Chandra, around that time. Alex was a dedicated vegetarian, and I remember her asking me (also a new mom) how she could make sure her baby got enough protein. Alex was a gifted artist even then, and a good friend to everyone who knew and loved her. I am heartened to know that she had so many friends and family who loved her so much.
Posted by: Karen Stewart | March 18, 2007 8:42 PM