Monday, September 23, 2013


I am getting things done, but I have a new free-floating anxiety. I keep looking around, internally, for what is wrong. And then I remember my young friend dying over the weekend and I am so disturbed. A disturbance in the field indeed.

I am breathless at this death. Honestly, short-of-breath stunned. I am going to walk and see if I can collect some thoughts. 

Why yes! You can see that the colors are changing. This picture hardly does it justice. The walk was helpful but I still had to come home and take a nap. 

I didn't sleep well last night as I kept thinking about SRB and his truly untimely demise. I wanted to crawl under the bed today, I felt so badly. I had not seen him in several years, only kept in contact via FB, so I am as surprised as you are that this is affecting me so dearly.

I suppose the resonance of Charlotte's passing so senselessly and so recently is a big part of it. I mentally reel for T. I am still tender from that sadness. 

Knowing my own pain and struggle, I empathize with the pains and struggles of others and it seems as if SRB had some serious demons and was not making great life choices. 

I am not going to subject you to another posting of William Stafford's A Ritual to Read to Each Other, but, of course, I read it. 

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

SRB was such a delight to work with, so smart, so talented, such a great, cooperative, forgiving attitude. But also gave good smart-aleck attitude, too. Helpful. A go-getter. And yet something went awry. There has been unsubstantiated speculation that there must have been drugs involved for such a young and healthy man to have a sudden fatal heart attack. 

I just can't help but feel that SRB missed his star and that he was, if not a star, possessed of a sweet inner light.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. 

And here is a bit of goodness from this loss: I called a sister-in-arms who worked with us, CXC, to share the news as I know she does not partake of FB. We hadn't spoken in quite awhile but our connection was as fresh as the autumn day. We jumped into real conversation and spoke for at least an hour. The signals were clear, and the darkness is a little less deep.

1 comment:

  1. Our own experience with a death too young is allowing friends to feel safe to share their experiences with young deaths we had not known of. I had no idea how many friends have lost young siblings and children. I feel like we've been ushered into a parallel reality of loss that's been there all along, invisible to us. I don't know if loss is harder or easier, knowing how present it is for so many.