“THERE is a weeping in my heart,” words borrowed from a French poet, because words fail, thoughts spin in useless circles, I am numb. Our dear feng shui Princesse is gone. Gone like a rustle of wind, a rush of water.
Princesse Lim Fernandez, June 7, 1973-June 14, 2019, Friday. Two days later, when we prayed for the repose of her beautiful soul, the first reading in the liturgy of the holy mass said it all, filling the blank canvas of my benighted spirit with this divine eloquence: “When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no fountains or springs of water; before the mountains were settled into place, before the hills, I was brought forth; while as yet the earth and fields were not made, nor the first clods of the world;
“When the Lord established the heavens I was there, when he marked out the vault over the face of the deep; when he made firm the skies above, when he fixed fast the fountains of the earth; when he set for the sea its limit, so that the waters should not transgress his command; then was I beside him as his craftsman, and I was his delight day by day, playing before him all the while, playing on the surface of his earth; and I found delight in the human race.”
She was an angel gone too soon, her wings not quite grown to their full magnificent span. A fairy who beamed an ineffable charm into our lives, a spot of sun when darkness threatened, a gleam of moonlight that turned the mundane into magic. There was a whimsicality in the way she saw the practicalness of things. Play your piano to snap the wind tunnel created by two doors facing each other. Don’t play tricks with bits of mirrors, mirrors are mysterious. Attend happy events to activate your good-luck zone.
Princesse’s science was art founded on intuition. She never called herself a master, pshaw!, but she was a true scholar with a high IQ who honored the environment and belief systems of our heritage, weaving a tapestry of philosophies that philosophers cannot articulate. Her last thoughts, conveyed via telepathy to the priest at extreme unction: “I will do a lot more where I am going.”
