Royal Family Portrait With Ancestor (aka Diana Aglow)
Credit: Alexi Lubomirski (with added imagery)
Like an estimated 29 million people, I, too, was mesmerized by the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. I rejoiced in their delicious love story, arose at 5 A.M. EST to view the broadcast live, and devoured, along with tea and cinnamon babka, every second of the event. When they released the official royal photographs, I again fell in love, this time with the joy that rippled over the faces of the family members.
But then my eye was drawn to the portrait’s right side. Next to William there was, at least in my mind, a gap.
Credit: Alexi Lubomirski
The space above the five children on the right struck my painter’s eye as asymmetrical. As soon as my mind made that realization, a memory intruded into my heart with a gentle rush…
Many years ago, a few days after my mother made her transition (kicked the bucket in other words), she visited me. I’d fallen asleep wondering when she would come. My mom was a medium, and I grew up with the knowledge that the so-called spirit world is just another aspect of an existence we take for granted. I knew it was just a matter of time before she would come a’calling.
And come a’calling she did.
Mom was aglow–blinding/vibrant/electric–alive in a way I could barely process. Unrecognizable, yet familiar to the core. She’d come to soothe me–to let me know she was okay, and that I, despite my grief, was okay, too.
But she knows me well.
Of the two of us, I have always been the more practical. So, in order to address the cynic in me, she left me a sign in “real” life. A testament, so to speak… The next morning, I stepped out onto my patio, and saw it. It was so strange, it felt right.
A single, yellow flower had sprouted out of one of the many plant pots. Although it was in full bloom, it hadn’t been there the day before–in fact there had been zero trace of anything about to emerge from below the surface of the soil. The time of year defied flowers shooting up from the dirt; we were in Los Angeles, the season wasn’t right.
I nor my roommate had even planted it.
But there it was–a buttercup. And I knew immediately–felt it in every atom, every cell–that the flower was my mom’s way of saying “See? I’m still very much a part of your “real” life.”
When she walked this earth she used to call me Buttercup.
So, when I saw the gap in the royal family portrait, I immediately recalled my mom’s visit and her lesson: that our ancestors are with us every step of the way. They rejoice when we rejoice, and support us in every stage of life. That’s why, when the big things happen–births, deaths, marriages–we keenly feel their presence. It’s as if the event’s emotional intensity peels away resistance, and we finally allow ourselves to feel our ancestors standing next to, with us, and for us–lovingly, patiently, and unconditionally.
I will never forget that lesson.
And that’s why, after I observed the gap, and felt that rush, I added what seemed to be missing–Diana aglow, reminding us that she was there, a mother standing with her family, sharing in their joy, rejoicing in their love. She reminds us that the real life business of taking a wedding picture could easily be a reflection on the reality of the eternal nature of Love. That those who have come before, those who are here, and those who have yet to come are all one along this brilliant continuum called Love.
Perhaps Alexi Lubomirski, as he composed this portrait, instinctively heeded the invitation to make space, to allow a visual void to just be.
Either way, I love that gap, and would love to turn Royal Family Portrait With Ancestor (aka Diana Aglow) into a painting. Perhaps, someday, I will…
And, perhaps, if one looks closer at the gap just in front of the Queen’s feet, one might see Harry and Meghan’s first child, aglow as well, beaming happily at the camera.
