Memorial tomorrow

This is Marilea's backyard, where tomorrow's memorial will be held. Paul Andre (pictured) helped me deliver the rental chairs. We'll set up to the right, in the shade--that's where Mudlark will perform "When Love Comes Home," Estelle, Mary and Karen will perform "The Rose," and Michael Irwin will officiate.

It'll be a little cooler tomorrow, for which I'm thankful. It was 100 yesterday. I'm hoping no one feels the need to dress in black or wear a suit and tie; it's not a funeral, it's a celebration of Peg's life.

Peg's brother Jay, brother Mike and his two adult daughters, sister Marianne & Mark and their two girls, Greg and Jeanette are coming over for lunch in a bit, so I need to sign off for now.

Please feel free to spread the word about tomorrow:

Where: 5901 Hoffman Lane, Fair Oaks
When: 10am-1pm
Who's invited: Everyone
Light refreshments provided--just bring yourselves (and maybe a sun hat)

Planting for the future

Yes, this is the same 60' tree that Zoë climbed for years before she got too big for the branches to support her. We planted four of them in 1991. This one is called "Zoë's tree" because it was her favorite. If you look waaaaaaaaay up through the branches you can see her little paper "landmarks"--special names for certain branches and lookouts, written on small pieces of paper and enclosed in packing tape. They go within ten feet of the top.

Talking with her sister Jeanette tonight about what to say at Sunday's memorial. There were so many aspects to her life, but one (of many) that made a lasting difference was her caring and dedication as a psychiatrist. She got many letters toward the end of her life (and afterward) from former patients. All expressing gratitude.

Peg's planting this tree is a metaphor for her approach to psychotherapy. She was willing to go deeply with her patients, to truly help them reclaim their divinity... and their lives.

An old Jewish proverb from the Talmud recounts the story of an old man  planting a sapling by the road.  He's asked why, since he won't enjoy the shade or fruit in his lifetime. His reply? The tree is not for him. It is for his children, and their children, and their children's children.

That was Peggy.

Expecting to fly

Friday I took off my wedding ring for the last time.

I'd only taken it off once before, about 23 years ago, to fix the sink. Felt strange to have it off, even for one hour.
________________

I was alone in the house. The late afternoon sun was warm and soft through the living room window. I put on "Expecting to fly" by Neil Young, a song Peg and I listened to over and over when we were first together in 1986.

There you stood
on the edge of your feather,
Expecting to fly.
While I laughed,
I wondered whether
I could wave goodbye,
Knowin' that you'd gone.
By the summer it was healing,
We had said goodbye.
All the years
we'd spent with feeling
Ended with a cry,
Babe, ended with a cry,
Babe, ended with a cry.

I sat on the couch for a long time, on the spot where I took off her ring just after she left this world.  I held the rings tightly and spoke to her before placing them on the little dragonfly shrine  on the mantle above the fireplace.

When I walked out into the sun and air, feeling the Delta breeze come up from the back yard, I looked at my hand again. I thought it would feel strange not to wear my ring-- like it did when I removed it the last time-- but this time it felt right.