No Safe Distance

How to Be A Friend to the Dying, Their Loved Ones and the Newly Bereaved

This is an excerpt from "Loving Grief" by Paul Bennett. It is his reply to a question from a friend after he, himself, lost his wife:

Make sure your friend knows she can call you for anything. Even if she never calls, knowing that she can will be a comfort.

Let her know, if she says she's okay, that you really hear she is okay. (I have a friend who would not accept that, who insisted on finding out how I was not okay. I left those conversations feeling invaded.) People can be okay in the midst of dying. People can need nothing when they are losing everything they value most. Do not let your wish to sympathize stop you from hearing the truth, and don't let your wish to help appear as her obligation to let you help.

That may sound like very unsatisfactory advice but the last part...of wanting to help and insisting, in some form or fashion, that the help be accepted, is one I was glad to see him speak to. I've been in that position, of people wanting so badly to help and the truth is knowing the right thing to say or do is so bloody hard. Saying the exact wrong thing is all to easy.

The Lady in Number Six

On Melancholy, Death and the Richness of Life

This provocative essay is by Eric G. Wilson.

Ours are ominous times. We are on the verge of eroding away our ozone layer. Within decades we could face major oceanic flooding. We are close to annihilating hundreds of exquisite animal species. Soon our forests will be as bland as pavement. Moreover, we now find ourselves on the verge of a new cold war.

But there is another threat, perhaps as dangerous: We are eradicating a major cultural force, the muse behind much art and poetry and music. We are annihilating melancholia.

Book and Group Updates and the Meaning of Life

Okay. It's a book.

When I started to dig in to what I had been writing, in those fits of time I was able to, about the events of the last year while being a companion to both my father and Michael as they completed their lives, I thought I just wanted to share a few of my thoughts in a smaller, more intimate, and direct way. The very last thing I wanted to do was write a book (or a pamphlet, for that matter).

But then I kept digging, and transcribing, and filling in the gaps and I started to appreciate what we did, me and these men. I saw what we faced. I saw the complexity of the dance steps we had to learn early on and how elegantly we were able to dance them once we learned to avoid each other's toes. I saw the tough decisions we all faced, not the least of which was whether we were each able to be trusted and whether we were able to grant trust to each other in return. I saw with greater clarity how suffering looked different on each of us and how much love there was between us even in the middle of that.

And that is just the easy stuff. There's a lot more to it, believe me.

Not only did I find the first journal of mine, ever, that I didn't end up shredding but I found I had started to write a book.

But not just a book. An important book.

Thomas Merton on Love

The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves,
and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only
the reflection of ourselves we find in them.

~Thomas Merton

I Left It Blank

I was about to get a long overdue massage from Rosie Silva-Huck. (Thank you thank you thank you to Nancy, Kate, Erin and Helen).

She asked me to fill out the 'new client' paperwork for the center where she works. It's standard procedure. We've all done this a million times at medical offices and such. (Rosie is heading back to California so I'll put links for her up once she is set up in her new place...in the meantime, look up Emotion Shaman at Facebook if you want to find her.)

This time I actually hit a bump though. For the first time in my life, I had nothing to put in the "Occupation" blank.

Blogs that Zigged When I Wish They Would Have Zagged

It's been a bit over a month now since Michael's passing, and four months since Dad, and I'm still adjusting to life without them. I don't have anything resembling a rhythm yet. My Fridays are free for me to do with what I will. I'm not sitting in that strange limbo I had lived in for so long wondering if this would be the week I would get "the call". I am free to roam as they say, and not only to Indiana to clean my Dad's house.

I even have a spiffy new phone (after I was told they no longer make batteries for my prior phone once I explained to the sales guy the device I was showing him was, in fact, a phone.) I can even text on it without having to press the numbers on my key pad a kajillion times to get to the right letter. I can get on the web and take you all with me in my purse in case I get lonely. (Did I tell you a Walmart employee laughed at my phone several months ago? Fine, I don't have the bleeding technology edge my Dad did but think of all the money I saved, suckahs!)

But How Did I KNOW He Was Good?

"You should get some pictures of me in my white hat for your book. That way they'll know I was a good guy. And he always wore a white hat..."

 

 

 

"Do you want me to write a book?"

"I want you to do it the right way. None of this He Said, She Said stuff. Yeah, I think you should write it. I mean, not to compare, but you know, Socrates couldn't write so it was up to Plato to write his stuff down. If you don't do it for me, what meaning will my life have had?"

 

"But you already wrote your book."

"And now you have to write yours."

"But what if there isn't a book?"

" A pamphlet, then, with a reading list so you can tell them to buy MY book!"

 

 

(You still can if you would like by going here, but be patient with getting it as family is doing the order fulfillment.)

Beautiful Wood Caskets and Memorial Urns, Sustainably Built

While we are on the subject of death, I have some links for your planning needs.

For those of you who were able to attend Michael's wake and burial services, his simple and lovely casket was built by the monks at the New Melleray Abbey in Iowa.

From their website:

As Trappists, we are committed to responsible stewardship. Our methods are aimed at preserving the world as God made it. We use wood of local origin - much of it coming from our own prized forest, which is managed to be a sustainable eco-system. We plant a tree in our forest in honor of each person who is buried in a Trappist Casket.

Then, surprisingly, Erin, Scott and I discovered in the old Miller Drugs building in Miller Beach, IN, in the middle of a very cool resale shop a casket that...well, I was going to say would die for. The company that makes them is Beautiful Wood. (Not sure why the link works for me from Google but won't work via this post. It's www.beautifulwood.org is you need to hand type or search it yourself.) If you are interested in a green burial, the caskets are absolutely lovely. There is one they do with dried lotus leaves on the outside that is gorgeous. They don't have the caskets up on the site yet, but if you email them or call their sales rep, Janet Wagner, I'm sure she will email you a flyer. Contact info is at their site, of course. Their urns are also quite beautiful. (They have all kinds of art and wooden furniture at their site, so even if you aren't looking for a coffin, head over to see their work.)

'The toughest I ever met' :: CHICAGO SUN-TIMES :: Obituaries

'The toughest I ever met' :: CHICAGO SUN-TIMES :: Obituaries.

Wonderful obituary featuring the ever delightful Stan Mikita and the special relationship he and Michael shared.