It seems this weekend is heavily peppered with memorial services for people who have somehow touched our lives. I figured I’d share:
Barb Johnson, 66, died at her home in Central NY on Valentine’s Day. Liz and Barb had become friends while Liz was working on her PhD at Cornell University, and Barb was working in the Biotech building. Barb was a kind soul, and she and Liz spoke often. I didn’t get to know Barb, but Liz often spoke of her, and we both always thought of her each time we looked at the beautiful crystal Angel candle holder Barb had given Liz as a going-away present.
Liz learned of Barb’s cancer a month or two ago, and was saddened to hear that the prognosis wasn’t good. She wrote a letter to Barb, to wish her well and let her know we’re thinking about her, and received a letter from Barb’s husband in return, inviting her to call. She called, and was able to have a very nice (albeit tearful) conversation with Barb. A week or two later, we were sitting at home with Barb’s candle burning, and it suddenly just went out unexpectedly. We looked at each other and wondered. Ultimately, it wasn’t really a sign…but Barb did succumb to her illness a couple of weeks later. Sadly, it wasn’t possible for us to attend the memorial service this weekend.
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James Kim, 35-year-old senior editor at CNET and San Francisco, was on a road trip to the Pacific Northwest with his family when they lost control of their car and were stranded in the snowy wilderness. Liz noticed the reports of his family’s disappearance, and was immediately distressed. Apparently our friend…James Kim (another bay area resident) had also gone on a road trip to the Pacific Northwest with his wife (whose name also begins with a “K” sound, but it’s a “Ch”) at the same time. We ascertained that James and Christie were just fine…but we continued to watch the news, hoping that the other James Kim (and his family) would be found alive and well. We were both very saddened when the news came a week later: he had died of hypothermia in a mountain creek after walking more than 16 miles in search of help for his stranded family. His wife and children were rescued, and their story is nothing short of amazing. There was a memorial service (be sure to check out the photos) for James yesterday in Golden Gate Park.
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Lincoln Moses, a longtime resident of Portola Valley and professor emeritus at Stanford University, died at 84 in December (on Liz’s birthday, four days shy of his own birthday) at our home. You see, Lincoln and his wife Mary Lou own the house in which our apartment is located, and they’ve lived here for about 50 years. Lincoln’s health has been very poor for a while now, and we knew about this before we decided to live here. For more than a month, I didn’t even get a chance to meet Lincoln, since there was no good opportunity. I interacted with Mary Lou quite often (she’s a wonderful woman, I love her to pieces), and I think it helped her greatly to have us there. She had hospice nurses at the house ’round the clock, and they helped immensely too…but we tended to get her mind away from the illness and impending sorrow…at least a bit.
One day, when the time was right, she offered for Liz and I to come over and meet with Lincoln, and I’m very glad she did. Lincoln’s presence—although clouded by the effects of parkinsons, cancer and alzheimer’s—was still very formidable. He spoke rarely and slowly, but his mind was still sharp behind those eyes…and I got at least a glimpse of the man I’d heard so much about, the man whose intellect and compassion had touched so many people’s lives.
Yesterday, Liz and I went to Lincoln’s memorial service. The Moses family are Quakers, and I’ve often been struck by Mary Lou’s contemplative, pacifist manner. The service was conducted in the Quaker fashion: It’s a silent service, but people are allowed to speak, sing or pray aloud if the spirit so moves them. I have to say, it’s probably the most beautiful memorial service I’ve ever been to. There was no formulaic God mumbo-jumbo, there was no contrived anything, it was simply a gathering of friends (as the Quakers all call themselves, but everyone who came was a friend of some sort) who came together to share stories, celebrate his life, and cherish him for what he brought into our lives. I was impressed by the memorial service nearly as much as I was impressed by the man. When the service was concluded, his grandson Logan played a beautiful piece of classical music on his Bass. I wish I could convey the beauty of the services, particularly of the sentiments many people had to offer about Lincoln…but any attempt would most likely be a disservice. Suffice it to say, I was moved to tears.
Liz and I were talking, on the way home, about the idea of having a memorial service two months after a person’s death. It seems like such a smart thing to do, yet I’ve never (in all the deaths I’ve been close to) seen it happen until now. Usually (as in the case of Barb’s services, and my father’s), the preparations are done quickly, immediately after the person has died. It’s as if everyone feels they won’t heal properly if they don’t view the body…yet we’re always told that the spirit endures, and the body is merely a thing of the past. I’ve never doubted that, but I find it a little unsettling that things are usually so rushed and actually centered around the body. I don’t like it.
Don’t get me wrong…my father’s wake brought out emotions in me that were very necessary, and probably couldn’t have been achieved any other way. But the fact remains, if we had slated the memorial service for two months later, and invited people to share in the Quaker tradition, it would have enabled more people to attend (time to plan a trip, etc), and it would likely have amounted to a much more “celebratory” experience.
Duly noted, and catalogued for future reference. Please arrange this for me when I die.
Also of note, Liz remarked that it’s a sad fact of life, that you often can’t find large groups of like-minded people (a community among which to make yourself at home) unless it’s in a religious congregation. I agree, and it kinda saddens me. Lately I’ve been very impressed by much of what the Quakers stand for. But I’m not really someone who praises/recognizes God. That might pose a problem.