“Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.”
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Today I attended a funeral of a woman I did not know well at all. Her name was Elisabeth Rubin. She died at 80, the mother of Emily Jennewein, a special person whom I cherish. The loss connected me more fully to Emily but also to the other daughter Elisabeth cherished, as well as a husband, grandchildren, sons-in-law, and many others I will never fully know. Elisabeth had a rich life. She was extremely intelligent and gifted. She loved deeply. She was a witness and a participant to the lives of many amazing beings. I missed the cues to her amazing life.
I wish I had known how to act next, but the loss involving Elisabeth suggested so many other actions that I sit observing in awe. I ask the angels: what do I do next? Silence is clearly the initial answer.
Breath, is another.
I have attended many funerals as of late. These occasions teach me many things. The power of process, for one. For example, we should not discard the importance of grieving. It is so, so important. We could easily jump into the process, dust ourselves off, and forget how essential it is for us to take our time. The richness of embracing our pain cannot be dismissed as inconsequential.
So what am I saying? For one, you are important to me. I woke up this morning feeling my age and the preciousness of all that invokes. Where did the time go? I wish for more time, who doesn’t? I have dreams like you. I want to touch the sun, and feel that despite time, there is still something left to give.
There is a special painting associated to this post. It is of MoJo, a Queensland healer, who graced the life of my brother and wife in particular, and me secondarily. MoJo and I walked many trails in San Jose and along the Santa Cruz Mountains. She was special creature who kept me company when I felt alone, and graced my family’s life when we need to be reminded of life’s gifts. I call this painting: The Forest Entrance.
Mo Jo is gone now, at least in physical presence, but her spirit tells us that life lives on. With Elisabeth, I think the same. I didn’t know her the way others did, but I think she really would want to know that paying it forward is the best gift to recognizing who she was.
Dear Lesley,
I love your paintings and your blog musings. I too am a dog lover, though I don’t have one right now. My many friends have been suggesting I get a dog for companionship. I grew up with dogs when I was a child. I must love dogs because they are loyal and will always love you. Also, I am a “dog”, that is to say I was born in the Chinese year of the dog. When I was 60 in 2006, which was then the Chinese year of the dog, Fern and I hosted a party at Chin’s Chinese Restaurant on Miramar Road. We asked our guests to bring in dog pictures and tell dog stories. Dogs are special creatures. Just think aabout it, DOG spelled backwards is GOD!!
Dear Al–Thank you for visiting Merlin’s Garden! I had no idea you loved dogs. I would support your friends’ encouragement. There are so many creatures needing homes and would love to hang out with such a good man as yourself! I was born in the year of the goat, which may explain my other passion. Anyway, I appreciate you stopping by at the blog and sharing your thoughts. All the best to you, my friend!
Hello Lesley,
I am looking on your site for the first time. While meeting you as a vendor (as I am) last April at Bates Farm, I bought some of your wonderful cards. I just sent out a card (grief comes in waves…learn to swim) and would like to purchase more of them as I volunteer trauma support several hours a week. Often I think about the incident and wish to be able to extend another word to the survivor. Where are the cards on your site? I appreciated our talk at Bates. Hoping that you are well. I signed up for your newsletter.
Thank you again,
Dear Darla–I hope you got my email and I hope you know how much I appreciate your visit to Merlin’s Garden. Lesley
Dear Leslie,
I so enjoyed entering your magical garden and especially getting to know you better. Your writings have made me more aware and appreciative of everyday things.
Linda
Thank you so much, Linda. Your words mean a lot to me!