Calendar Girl Blog: Boxing Day
I am amazed.
I was not celebrating Christmas this year and yet I received the greatest gift possible. My friend Henry allowed me to be one of his escorts to deaths doorstep.
Although death and I have met before, our exchanges have always been buffered by medical science, protocol, other peoples discomfort and bad timing. For reasons that can only be described as poetic, Henry facilitated a more intimate exchange, allowing death and I to meet, face to face, eye to eye.
We three danced.
Calendar Girl will use this gift forever. Death is quite the dancer.
Calendar Girl
I was not celebrating Christmas this year and yet I received the greatest gift possible. My friend Henry allowed me to be one of his escorts to deaths doorstep.
Although death and I have met before, our exchanges have always been buffered by medical science, protocol, other peoples discomfort and bad timing. For reasons that can only be described as poetic, Henry facilitated a more intimate exchange, allowing death and I to meet, face to face, eye to eye.
We three danced.
Calendar Girl will use this gift forever. Death is quite the dancer.
Calendar Girl
posted by Sue Richards at 6:02 PM
3 Comments:
Beautifully said Sue.......
Thinking of you and your dear friends, who've lost someone so clearly extraordinary and who gave so much of himself to the world in his actions - "make it beautiful" are words I'm going to strive to live every day by. Your willingness to share the journey with Henry, especially over these final days, was surely a great gift to him and his family. And its a gift to the rest of us that you share what that journey has been like for you, Sue. Thank you so much.
It was with great sadness that I learned of Henry's passing. My world has become a much smaller place because of it. Henry and I grew up near Bright's Grove and we shared many childhood adventures; from our attempts to sing in Miss Houghton's music class to finding a 700 hundred year old skeleton in the Pinery Scout Camp, the rope swing over the creek that I was too scared to try. Such are the memories of those days. In the years of big hair, Henry wore an afro and we called him Brillo. It does seem insensitive now but to see it did bring a smile. Although, we have not been in contact with each other since leaving school, I knew he was out there and doing well. He followed his destiny and worked hard. I saw him on television and rejoiced in his fame.
On this the last day of 2005, for we have not yet passed into the New Year on the West Coast, I shall remember you, my friend, as we sing that ancient song. I hope you have found the garden that you tried so hard to make for us on earth.
Post a Comment
<< Home