During the day, I took Margaret's "professional" clothes to The Spring for distribution to those re-entering the real world after experiencing a loss of their self-esteem and sense of self-worth. Could not find a better way to use "things" to honor Margaret's life-long mission to empower and affirm the basic goodness and worth of everyone she met.
Later in the day, I said Hello to the folks at SERVE and got myself lined up to assist in their project to make the Food Ministry of SERVE more widely available. Yea, I'll be in the background and I'll have opportunity to do my computer thing, and that is one of the ways I see affirming people in empowering them to take charge of their nourishment and money management.
Tomorrow, I go for Instructor training in the AARP Safe Driver Program, and I had to do some things to have both me and the car ready for my first alone trip -- really alone. I have hedged a bit -- I'm going to use technology to ensure that Lee knows my whereabouts.
Tonight, as I was reading a novel, one of the characters died of cancer -- and his end days were very much like Margaret's. As the story progressed and the author detailed the funeral, I hit my mourner's wall. After letting the weeping and wailing have life, I have later realized that I was so caught up in trying to live up to Margaret's expectations about her Memorial Service that I did not give myself, nor did the service, a chance to say goodbye to my beloved. I accepted she was gone in the hospital, occasionally allowed myself to really miss her, would accept my anger that she had left me, would wonder if I had the strength to take care of all that was left -- but none of that really said goodbye that accepted the reality that she is physically no longer here, and that was really blocking the view of death as an important and rewarding transition. Margaret told me she wanted to go home -- and it took me a few minutes to realize what she meant. As I write this tonight I am aware of the pain of the goodbye, but am comforted by it. The writer had a brother of the boy who died say this in eulogy:
"Be not fearful of death, For it is not the end of life, but merely a new beginning. Death is not the conqueror that vanquishes all, But it is the liberator that sets us free. Although death may terminate our mortal existence, It gives us the opportunity to explore a realm we have never known. Death is not the closing of a door and the ending of a life, But it is the opening of a door and the beginning of a new existence. Although death may, for a time, separate us from those we love, It will also serve to unite us with all those who have gone before. It is not the harbinger of eternal rest or a journey into nothingness, But our birth into a new plane of being, where we shall reside with our creator. Even though death's sting may hurt for a time, The pain it causes will last only briefly. Although we shall forever miss the loved one who has passed, The pain of his passing shall only be a temporary phase. Eventually it will be replaced with a feeling of joy, From knowing we were blessed by his presence, no matter how brief it was. So fear not what death shall bring, But rejoice in its eventual arrival. Although our brains may not be able to understand its true meaning, Please understand it is more than our last breath or final repose. Death be not proud, nor should it be humble, For it is but one more step in the evolution of our souls."
Bill and Danny spoke from their hearts at the service, and I found great comfort in their presence and words. These words spoke to that part of me that right now is fearful of this new beginning I am finding.
I know Margaret is no longer in pain, and like Chris Casagrande said in his tribute, " ... I'm sure she's up in Heaven telling the angels how to apply for an archangelship even as we speak."
And so I end the day -- a sad and much wiser guy for having been through some more words that became signposts (guideposts?) for my mourning. The only words I have are from that adaptation of Nancy Woods work:
A long time you have lived with me
And now we must be going
Separately to be together.
Perhaps you will be the wind
To blur the smooth waters
So that I do not see my face too much.
Perhaps you will be the star
To guide my uncertain wings
So that I have direction in the night.
Perhaps you will be the fire
To separate my thoughts
So that I do not give up.
Perhaps you will be the rain
To open up the earth
So that my seed may fall.
Perhaps you will be the snow
To let my blossoms sleep
So that I may bloom in spring.
Perhaps you will be the stream
To play a song on the rock
So that I am not alone.
Perhaps you will be a new mountain
So that I always have a home
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