More sad news
October 4th, 5am (Tokyo time) I received an email from my friend Matt (now a grad student at Berkeley) notifying me (and our other friends on the list) that his mother had passed away over the weekend.
I had heard only the week before that she was terminally ill with cancer (one of the many things that made last week so difficult), so, while I expected news of this eventually, I certainly didn't expect it so soon. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to Matt about her illness and how he was dealing with it, but now it's too late for that.
He forwarded an email from his dad, dated October 3rd (American time), saying that she passed away peacefully in her sleep and was never in any pain. For that small comfort, we can be thankful. But I hope Matt was among the loved ones surrounding her at the end. I hope nothing was left unsaid.
After seeing what Jae went through after his father's death, I can say with some conviction that honesty and openness in life are a small way that we can begin to deal with death.
I can also say, aware of the irony, that sometimes nothing can be said. I only hope a fair number of our friends are able to attend the funeral and offer their ears and arms to Matt for comfort. After this past year in particular, I really wish I could be there.
But I guess I knew when I left that I'd be missing out on a lot of things, good and bad. It never occurred to me, however, that I would be missing things like this, things where my physical presence might actually count for something. Stupid of me, really, considering how much I myself value the touch of a loved one. So hug your friends and family and have sleepovers and meteor-showers while you can...
I've dreamt about Matt and the funeral quite a bit since receiving his email. In my most memorable dream, we (73) were in the middle of a juggling show, when someone left the stage, and suddenly, while everyone (audience and performers) waited for him/her to return, the stage transformed into the Chapel chancel, only much *much* bigger, packed with pews stacked a dozen rows high. The audience streamed from their seats into the chancel pews, and we sat like sardines to listen to speakers and readers. A woman (in my dream, Matt's aunt) grabbed my hand and pressed it to her face in grief. My hand was soaked with tears, and I tried to rub her back to calm her but to no avail. There was something glorious about it, and with so many bodies vibrating so close together, the grief was palpable. I woke up hoping that the funeral Thursday morning is just as much an opportunity for release and as much a display of affection and love.
If you would like to contribute in some way, please make a donation to:
Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation
P.O. Box 224523
Dallas, TX 75222
American Cancer Society
6800 Jericho Turnpike
Suite 200W
Syosset, NY 11791
I had heard only the week before that she was terminally ill with cancer (one of the many things that made last week so difficult), so, while I expected news of this eventually, I certainly didn't expect it so soon. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to Matt about her illness and how he was dealing with it, but now it's too late for that.
He forwarded an email from his dad, dated October 3rd (American time), saying that she passed away peacefully in her sleep and was never in any pain. For that small comfort, we can be thankful. But I hope Matt was among the loved ones surrounding her at the end. I hope nothing was left unsaid.
After seeing what Jae went through after his father's death, I can say with some conviction that honesty and openness in life are a small way that we can begin to deal with death.
I can also say, aware of the irony, that sometimes nothing can be said. I only hope a fair number of our friends are able to attend the funeral and offer their ears and arms to Matt for comfort. After this past year in particular, I really wish I could be there.
But I guess I knew when I left that I'd be missing out on a lot of things, good and bad. It never occurred to me, however, that I would be missing things like this, things where my physical presence might actually count for something. Stupid of me, really, considering how much I myself value the touch of a loved one. So hug your friends and family and have sleepovers and meteor-showers while you can...
I've dreamt about Matt and the funeral quite a bit since receiving his email. In my most memorable dream, we (73) were in the middle of a juggling show, when someone left the stage, and suddenly, while everyone (audience and performers) waited for him/her to return, the stage transformed into the Chapel chancel, only much *much* bigger, packed with pews stacked a dozen rows high. The audience streamed from their seats into the chancel pews, and we sat like sardines to listen to speakers and readers. A woman (in my dream, Matt's aunt) grabbed my hand and pressed it to her face in grief. My hand was soaked with tears, and I tried to rub her back to calm her but to no avail. There was something glorious about it, and with so many bodies vibrating so close together, the grief was palpable. I woke up hoping that the funeral Thursday morning is just as much an opportunity for release and as much a display of affection and love.
If you would like to contribute in some way, please make a donation to:
Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation
P.O. Box 224523
Dallas, TX 75222
American Cancer Society
6800 Jericho Turnpike
Suite 200W
Syosset, NY 11791
posted by Bibhatsu at 05:22
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