The Furious Spinner

My best friend Linda Ford died on this date last year. I had planned on driving to her favorite campsite today. I was going to put up a chair and read Ruby's Imagine out loud. It's dedicated to her, inspired by her. It is pouring down pissing down rain. We'll go out to the spot anyway, but I probably won't sit in the rain for three hours and read my book. Linda would understand. Of course, the spot is between an old growth Doug fir and cedar. Probably not a drop of rain has reached the ground yet. Linda's sister Ruth called, and it was good to talk to her. Sometimes it is good not to feel alone in grief and remembrance. I'll try Serena again, too.

In the meantime, new words aren't coming to me. I listen to the rain, which is so unusual in August here. Yesterday I got word that my friend Barbara's brother and sister in law were killed in the flooding in Minnesota as they were driving home Saturday night. The news was so stunning, sudden, horrific. I think of the Wheel of the Year. August is a harvest month. August is about fruitfulness and life. August is when Serena was born! Birth is what we should be celebrating in August, not mourning death.

So I will repost the elegy I wrote for Linda and read aloud at her beautiful memorial.

This is what I do, my old sweetheart.
I use words to find meaning.
You said there was a reason for everything.
I see no reason or sense in your death.
Yet that is what has happened.
We looked into each other’s eyes many times
And knew the end was near,
Knew this was not what either of us wanted
Or planned.
I wanted to be with you all the time
But some of those times were difficult
Watching you birth your death
It was messy, painful, sad
We all felt the labor pains
Rumbling through valley, hills, river.
I asked what sign you would give me
After you were gone. To prove to me
That you were right, after all.
Even in the end. Even about the end.
"Something with a bird," you said.
"Not quite sure. You’ll know."
Days after you told me this
A hummingbird flew right up to me
Wings whirring, tiny eyes gazing at me.
But you were still alive.
Had your spirit already flown the coop?

One night when you still had your strength
You called and left a message on our phone
I was on the coast, you in Home Valley
Where you were witnessing a summer storm.
Lightning, thunder, and clouds were creating
A masterpiece just for you.
You sounded so excited as you described to me
The beauty all around you. I wept as I listened
To your message. Your message of beauty and joy.
I pressed save. I wanted to have a record of your
Voice, your beauty and joy forever.

But someone erased the message.
And now you are gone.
A few days after you died
I went out to your campsite.
I stood out in the stream on a rock
And said, “Linda where are you?”
I looked around at the beauty
At the stones, the creek, the green.
The blue sky, and I couldn’t find you.
“You aren’t here,” I whispered.
Then I looked down and
Saw a tiny white feather floating on
the water in a small pool encircled
By stones. I watched the feather for a long while.
I remembered once when I asked where you’d
Be after you died and you said,
“I will be in the breeze coming
Across the field. I will be in the
Songs of the birds. I will be the
Sun on your shoulders.”
Although you didn’t say so, I know
When I see a wildflower and wonder
its name, you will tell it to me.
When I linger along the path, it
Will be because your hand is on my
Shoulder reminding me to pause.
One day I will smell a Doug Fir
And know you brought that scent to me.
And when I reach my arms around a tree
I know I will be embracing you too.
It is not enough today.
But someday it will be.
Farewell my old sweetheart.


She would be glad to know that I can now smell! Blessed be.

And to all of you out there, in the words of Ruby from Ruby's Imagine, "I loves you, I loves you, I loves you."

May You All Love and Show Kindness to Each Other in Beauty!

June 2007, me and her

Labels: Linda

2 comments

2 Comments:

Blessings of the brightest kind to each of you, Kim and much love. Linda is smiling at you, and I know she loves the book. Much love, Cate

By  kerrdeLune (cate), at 3:14 PM  

On the way home from the campsite, I told Mario that I should have called the post: My Old Sweetheart: One Year Later: Still Dead. Linda would have LOVED that. Mario and I laughed so hard just thinking of that. Later, I told Serena, and she and I laughed some more. Now Linda would have loved that we were all laughing together.

By  Kim Antieau, at 9:11 PM  

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