Memorials

Rosemary: Collaterals November 16 2009

When grieving, we think after a while

That the loss will move further back into the past.

We don’t know all the ways that it will be renewed,

Again and yet again.

We can’t predict the doctor’s office call

To reschedule your missed appointment –

Planned more than a year ago;

Or the subscription renewal notices that still arrive;

Or what it’s like to lose someone who shared my loss.


Inger’s moving to a new life far away.

She started work for us when you and I moved to this house.

You taught her how to do the daily tasks your way.

You became friends, enjoyed each other.

She shared your passion to care for things,

To make and foster beauty, do things right --

Respecting essence of fine wood, silver, glass, and leather.

Inger was so helpful to me after you had died,

Keeping things together, creating continuity.

Now she’s moving, taking with her your wisdom and your skillful craft,

Packing up and lugging off her many memories of your life --

Your needs, your quirks, your loving twinkling eyes, your laughter and your pain.

I warmly wish her well.

And yet, her leaving here renews my grief.

I’m losing more of you as Inger leaves.

Reflection to Ellen:

Life does move on after losing someone. Things break. People move. Situations change. The imprint of the person’s actions and deeds fades. In places, events, and things, other people’s energy is laid over that of the one who is gone . People forget. Only love remains sharp and present -- love and photos. But I sometimes even look at photos of you and think that your image in them has faded – is that possible?

I guess it’s the same phenomenon as happens to distant memories of our own experiences – they fade. They become episodic rather than continuous. They end up as tiny snapshots, shards of memory . Strangely, although the images fade, the feelings remain robust, vivid, powerful. Both love and sadness retain their power to overwhelm me, to fill all the crevices and crannies of my soul.

I just learned about a talk recently given by my sister Dorothy who had lost her teenaged son in a bicycle accident several years ago and whose husband is dying of cancer. She has started a successful foundation in her son’s memory, to train service dogs for people’s unique needs and disabilities. She was speaking at a milestone event for the foundation, marking the graduation and placement of two of the first dogs they’ve trained. She said, wisely, in talking about her family’s grief, that we can’t stop a storm, but we can learn to dance in the rain.

We all, as we go on in life, have our personal storms that dampen our innocence. May I – may we all-- learn to dance in the rain!

Ellen: Embers (undated)

My spirit is reduced to embers.

How do I blow on it to make it come alive?