I shall miss the laugh, the smile, the ease you had with kidlettes of every age wherever you met them. The cooking feasts. The whole salmon you brought fresh from Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco to three young mamas with muddy kids in the Redwoods of Big Basin Park circa 1978. You wrapped it in foil with onions and lemon slices. You put it on the campfire grill, and when its fragrance reached the stars, you served us on real china plates, poured wine into crystal stemware, treated us like queens and we three mamas got down to kiss your feet in gratitude while young Mosa, Devon, and Corbin slept in the tent.
I have missed the you I knew from tenth grade until eight years ago when dementia began to eat you, nibble by nibble, into an unrecognizable human. Who's to know what you could understand inside there? Who's to know what you wanted to have happen? Your beloved made some difficult and right-on decisions regarding your care, dear. I'm so glad I got to come down and care for you just after moving to Oakland, while Anne was leading a tour in Europe. I'm so glad your sister Barrie showed me the ropes. Queenie was a rock.
Queenie sings to you in a video posted on your beloved Anne's Face Book page. Angelic voice pouring out of the two dimensional screen gives me a wee bit of the flavor of your last days. I did not come see you at Silverado. I regret that even though Anne and Barrie said you wouldn't recognize me. You seem trapped inside yourself in the video, but loved-up right to the last moment of life.
Your radiant soul has lifted off and the dust of your corporeal house is just that: dust. But the mind that created such wonder in the worlds of film and friendship, gallantry and gardening, fun and foolery was eaten away over these past years - tragically.
What causes dementia? What initiates the voracious appetite of whatever IT is that has hunger for human brain tissue, memory, language?
I protest. I HATE dementia. I hate Alzheimer's. I hate Cancer. I hate losing friends, old and young to voracious appetites of evil. (Notice the handy dandy palindrome of Live and Evil. Hah! They are not truly one and the same with the letters simply rearranged. Nor are they opposites. Just a chance quirkitude of the English language.)
What are we to learn from death? What do we need to know?
One: It is an equal opportunity destroyer.
Two: Life is terminal. We just don't know which terminal and when.
Three: Death is a release... somewhat like taking off a pair of very tight shoes, if we are to believe Emmanuel as channeled by Pat Rodegast. Or like stepping out of an overly hot, stuffy room where people have been smoking, and into a sparkling clear, cool, bright night.
Four: For those left behind bereft and grieving the loss of a dear one, Death Sucks!
But we knew all that. Gee, Mr. Wizard, what else is there to learn from Death?
Watch De Düva, a brilliant and hilarious send up of Ingmar Bergman's best films, the Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. De Düva was written by Sidney Davis, directed by George Coe and Anthony Lover. Madeline Kahn is one of the stars. Maybe you can find it on YouTube... Worth a look.
You have to be able to LAUGH at death sometimes. It's just so random. The play Steam Bath highlights just how random it is in a funny, slow-dawning way.
Thanksgiving time seems to open a window to the end of the year. Many choose to fly through this window. The dark of winter? Do folks choose to take the exit ramp marked "Holidays Ahead" to avoid another season of hyper-cheer, Xmas muzak, and garish lights? To avoid commercialism and the worst of human greed? Or do the shorter days simply beckon, "Come, there's more dark where this came from... come join me in the sweet dark forever..."
Maybe I'm cynical. Maybe I'm pissed off. Maybe I'm just tired of people dying in droves. Three in one week is too many... well, four if I count my neighbor's rabbit Inkspot. And I do. I count critters. People love their catkins and puppies and bunnies and birdies. When a friend of any stripe dies, it's a loss. And a new loss triggers all the other losses that come up and try to squeeze out our tear ducts all at the same time. It's good for Kleenex stock prices, but hard on the eyeballs and nose.
Happy Ho Hos and let's hold onto and enjoy our loved ones... for as long as ever we can!
Good December... full of light... inner light.
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