In Loving Memory

My beloved boyfriend's parents passed away on June 19th and June 21st, 2008, roughly within 48 hours of each other. They both died peacefully, finally resting after long battles.

The pain of this sears.

The funeral for Peter's mother, Marcia, is today. She fought her battle with lung cancer with grace and determination, and the beneficiaries of the many hats that she was able to wear (the hats of a beloved mother, wife, friend, aunt, sister, daughter, volunteer, teacher) are grieving the loss of this truly thoughtful, truly generous woman.

In the short time that I knew her, I think what most stood out for me was the fact that, in my experience, she was always quick to let you know when you had unfairly judged someone, jumped to an inaccurate conclusion, or failed to give the benefit of the doubt. And she did it so gently, with that lovely little half-smile of hers. I know so few people like that. She didn't appreciate jokes at the expense of others. She was genuinely and deeply kind. It was a constant kindness without any sort of self-indulgent fanfare. Her humility ran as deeply and abundantly as her kindness. I will miss that.

She was very actively involved in the community, focusing her attention in the last 12 years on Milwaukee's Lake Park. When she was recently honored with an award for her contributions, she simply had these words to say:

Smell the flowers
Look up at the birds
Be kind to fellow volunteers
Enjoy Lake Park!

Her beloved Lake Park with its trails and benches and trees and summer concert series and juicy mulberries and warm, woody scents will stand as a living memorial to her, as will the North Point Lighthouse. She worked tirelessly on the restoration of this lighthouse--this quaint little artifact of a different time. I think she believed deeply in the power of symbols. She lovingly fought to preserve these structures and spaces that tell the story of Milwaukee's history like messengers from the past. These symbols that remind us of all of our blessings.

Count your blessings. These were words that she said to Peter near the end of her life. They are words that I carry with me every day. Her words were always succinct, well chosen, and left a considerable impact.

On the morning of her death, the lighthouse's bell was brought from its display case in the public library to its rightful place in the restored tower. About an hour after she passed, the bell rang exactly one time. The sound was recorded for posterity, and I can't help but think that it was a sound full of gratitude and mourning for the woman who loved this project, who literally gave a community its beacon, and who brought this piece of the past to life so that the future could have it. I'd like to think that she heard the sound of that bell as she slipped soundlessly from this world, becoming one with her trees, her birds, her lake, like an exhalation expanding into wind. Encompassing and embracing everything.

Gone from this world, but never from our hearts. You are loved and missed.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
Mary Frye (1932)