March 26, 2016
Death..
We so often cushion the blow by using euphemisms: Rainbow Bridge (mostly for critters), expired, passing on, slipping away. A crusty old guy whom I have chatted with briefly , Malachy McCourt (actor, writer, raconteur from the lanes of Limerick: famous in his own mind and also the brother of novelist Frank McCourt... who died) goes off on condolences. He's an iconoclast and I appreciate him for his rants. However, to me, we need to find ways to talk about death. Louise Hay has done that and Kubler-Ross's steps of dealing with what happens when a tragedy happens or someone dies are important. Malachy will have none of that malarkey. And, that's okay with me. It's just malarkey.
Processing death is certainly a process. I've learned, via FB, from Earl Hamner's son, Scott, that Earl insisted that there be no memorial. This is a little sad because his entire life, he has written the history and a sort of memorial to the life that he has lived. The Waltons is a tribute to his life. Maybe that's enough?
We respect the dead. (or should) Period. But, do the dead respect us? I am now remembering the scene from The Big Lebowski where Jeff Bridges and John Goodman are trying to scatter their friend's ashes. Classic. So... I think that the dead should honor the living by allowing us to gather in their name and confirm to each other that our lives matter. Their lives matter. Life matters. Of course, every memorial is not only a tribute to the dearly departed, but to those of us left behind. It's a nice thing.
The recent funeral for Nancy Reagan was lovely and helped with closure for those who liked her and for those who may have been critical. It was nice. Lavish. It was generous of her to have planned the event and for the nation to be invited to hear the many tributes from those who knew and loved her. It's the stories that allow us to nod our heads in agreement and to be together.
I wish that there would be a gathering for Earl, in spite of his last wishes. Not "for" Earl, but for the literally thousands who knew and loved him, me included.
Finally, I want for anyone who reads this stuff of mine to know about the impending death of Steve Julian. His wife, Felicia Friesema, is keeping a journal on line as she helps to steer this lovely man to the Rainbow Bridge. It is dear and funny and very sad. She said in a post today that she 'needs a poet.' In fact she is extraordinarily poetic and kind in her writing and I hope that as life goes on, that she will publish her cook book and her notes on the process of seeing her husband through the days that lead to the inevitable. Here's her latest entry. I do believe that she is a poet, too.
My artwork for Steve and Felicia is in process. Thanks for the bee's wax, Felicia.
March 26, 2016
michaelsheehan
We did not have a memorial, we waited, for her birthday and per her wishes had a big party. Her friends wanted a memorial. We said they could have one but that we would not be there!!! Have one. Nobody will be mad if you have a small group get together to remember a friend. My two cents. xxoogg
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