the weight of SATURN and the burning SUN

August 6, 2018: Yoga class tonight had me Sat Nam-ing my way through the urge to sob endlessly and uncontrollably in a room full of strangers. The drive home displayed a smoky blood orange sun hanging ominously ahead and during this I was reminded of two things:

1) That there is an eternal amount of beauty in this world even among the brutal toxic carnage and 2) That there are people everywhere braving through far worse circumstance than me. I’m grateful for every breath I take and each earthly lesson I learn—truly.  I have come to learn that each challenging test we face here is an opportunity to become more loving. Pluto’s ultimate lesson is empathy and Saturn’s is humor. May we all remember this as we stumble through the pains of gravity. Laugh, cry, root deeply, and bloom…over and over.

He died Aug. 6th 2012 when he was 59 years old. I had taken a ferryboat and driven 7 hours to be there. Even as I type this, my eyes swell with tears and my stomach puckers. Why don’t we talk about this stuff…death is as natural as living…and yet…He was already in a coma. I arrived late in the evening on August 5th. By the morning he was gone. We wrote in black sharpie on his feet and legs

He was warmer than I thought he would be and peaceful. Not scary or washed out.

He looked beautiful.

My mother asked the man coming to pick up his body, if he too, would like to sign Bob. I cringed, but also laughed. Oh Mom… can we not make all the strangers who enter the house this uncomfortable.

His birthday was July 10th.

It was our last real conversation. He had been my hero, and not just in the sappy childlike kind of way, but in the deep and profoundly life changing way. Nobody could talk to me the way Bob could. It was a conversation I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. Mostly this line…“I really admire you Rae. Life makes you think that it is supposed to be young folks who look up to older folks, but you have taught me that, that isn’t always the case.”

He thanked me for the myriad of things that made me—me. I met him on Father’s day. Interesting coincidence.

I was 13 years old and had just graduated from the eighth grade. He told me once that the thought of me scared him. He said, “I thought what on earth am I going to talk to a 13 year old girl about?”

Bob & Alice Poem:

I think about what conversations we would be having if you were still here…
And this thought reminds me that if you were still here my whole life would be different.
It doesn’t stop the spiral decent into the limitless sea of “what if?”
I’m sitting alone on the floor of my new office aware that its saintliness can only be your doing…
The Alice in Wonderland part though—that’s all me.
It was 6 years ago now since you left, very early in the morning…
And just like Spud you waited for me to get there.
I had traveled all day to say goodbye to your comatose body…
And to finally read the poem I didn’t have the courage to recite to you the month before.
I’m sorry for that more than most other things…
Truth be told—the dead are much easier to talk to.

The Poem I read to him that night…

 Sinister Silence:

I could say I’m scared; or I could say unsteady.

Could say I can’t find words, and that my hearts not ready.

Cold and cutting, I could say a cluster of clichés.

I could say the feelings daunting like a freak show’s twisted maze.

Could say it’s so much more than that, like the perversion of my faith.

In reeling rage I could say, no—roar, the reality of this wraith.

I could say that I am sober, or I could say that I’m awake.

And I could say it doesn’t matter, cause time’s not here to wait.

Yes, I could say a lot of things, but I don’t want to say a word…

For here in my sinister silence, goodbye’s not said or heard.

 

My favorite thing he ever wrote me:

Hi Rae…because I love you I thought I would just write some stuff….ramblings of an old man…we are the sum total of all our experiences….good, bad and indifferent…you are a wonderful young lady…because of all your experiences and learning and the folks you choose to interact with…I respect you because you can think and reason and then temper that with emotion and feeling…sometimes we (myself included) feel boxed in and ineffective when faced with a choice between A or B…if neither of them seem doable the answer would not be picking the lesser…but seeking more truth and clarity…maybe an answer of C or D…only limit yourself by what you know to be right and true…seek the best choice and live it till it is not the best choice…your heart is good and pure….with love…bob

 

My Bob’s Rhapsody Memorial Poem:

My support, my resolve, my teacher,

My mentor, my motivation, my mend.

Fierce, but affectionate eyes, aflame with ferocious desire.

That devilish desire to dig…

Dig deep in dangerous ideas and the double-edged duality of men.

Bull-headed, but brilliant brain, bizarre with its unabashed crudeness.

That cantankerous crudeness to command…

Command courage and courtesy of character, cultivating calm and curiosity within.

Well-spoken, but wily smile, wise with its worldly rhetoric.

That reverend rhetoric to reawaken…

Reawaken a once rowdy and radiant mind and require your resolute refusal to ever let it resign.

My kindred, my champion, my cheerleader,

My most lovingly missed, father, philosopher, and friend.