"I miss Emily, sometimes” Aunt Belle said as she looked out her kitchen window and took a sip of her highball. Emily (my grandmother) was my godmother’s (I call her Aunt Belle) best friend. “I knew that would be the last time I would see her,” she went on. My eyes got big and I took a big swig of my highball. How did she know that that would be the last time she saw her? I thought to myself. Well, of course. How did I NOT think that that would be the last time they were together?
My 83 year old grandmother had colon cancer and no longing being able to take care of her from 3,000 miles away, my brother and I decided to move her to California where her last living relatives (me and Allen) could take care of her. This meant taking her away from her best friend and everything that she had known for most of her life. I knew this was a sensitive issue and somehow I didn’t want to look at that. But 10 years later after the death of my grandmother, her best friend was reliving the last time they were together.
I remember that day well. It was a beautiful spring day and they sat outside in lawn chairs and I was on the swing that was tied to a big old pecan tree where I used to play as a child. We drank “highballs” and I let the old ladies talk and giggle as we all drank -me more so than them. In their chatter, I did not suspect at that time that in there own little way, they were saying goodbye to one another for the last time (know but not knowing).
It has been over 30 years since I have seen my girlfriend, Sue. She called me from seeing my name and number on the internet. She had just gotten over open heart surgery and I had just got out of a four month stay in the hospital; we had a lot in common. Here I am sitting at her kitchen table in Ohio and chatting. We both lived in an ashram back in the early seventies and we have built a strong foundation in meditation and mindfulness since then. We sat together this morning before she left for work and we hugged each other as we said our goodbyes and promised to stay in touch. I now know what it was like for my Aunt Belle. As you get older, you realize that each goodbye could be your last.
Goodbye, Sue! Be well.
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THE LEAP OF DARING
In order to overcome selfishness, it is necessary to be daring. It is
as
though you were dressed in your swimsuit, standing on the diving board
with
a pool in front of you, and you ask yourself: "Now what?" The obvious
answer is: "Jump." That is daring. You might wonder if you will sink or
hurt yourself if you jump. You might. There is no insurance, but it is
worthwhile jumping to find out what will happen. The student warrior
has to
jump. We are so accustomed to accepting what is bad for us and
rejecting
what is good for us. We are attracted to our cocoons, our selfishness,
and
we are afraid of selflessness, stepping beyond ourselves. So in order
to
overcome our hesitation about giving up our privacy, and in order to
commit
ourselves to others' welfare, some kind of leap is necessary.
From "Renunciation and Daring," in SHAMBHALA: THE SACRED PATH OF THE
WARRIOR, the Shambhala Library Edition, page 63.
I am saddened by the death of Christopher Bock. A longtime friend of a friend but still a wonderful memory in my mind.