March 17, 2005
Winter Pond, Death, with Moire, Maybe
The funeral yesterday was heartbreaking, especially the tributes from my friend's husband and sons, who so clearly adored her. She is the third member of our little group to die well before her time. The cemetery was especially bleak. In the Jewish tradition (she was Jewish, her husband is not) members of the family were invited to throw a shovelful of dirt into the grave. The coffin was at least ten feet below us, and the hollow sound of the dirt hitting the wooden box resonated such grim finality.
There was a discussion at the gathering afterwards regarding the practice of living each moment to the fullest, which was the bereaved family's practice, especially during the last four years. One of our widow's (there are two) second husband said that his wife is so incredibly overbooked and busy because she doesn't want to miss any opportunity to have an experience in life, lest it be taken from her without warning. She attributes her behavior to the sudden loss of her first husband, at age 49 (of a heart attack on the racquetball court - remember racquetball?) Her new husband's idea of living life to the fullest involves watching the sunset from a deckchair at the beach and contemplating the meaning of life, for which she saves little time. So there you go. It's a good thing they both play tennis.
There was also much admiration voiced for my friend, who was a child of the Holocaust, because of her mastery of the fear of death, through various spiritual practices, and for the opportunities that she gave her family, and her friends to express their love for her in her final days, as well as for the ways that she showed her love to them.
It was noted that people often die the way they lived, and she died a loving, peaceful death - a great accomplishment under the circumstances, especially when she had been facing her mortality, full on, for four years.
I met a number of women, members of her cancer support group, who were very shaken by her passing. She is the first of their group to die. Many of them have the same kind of cancer she had, and I'm certain that her death has greatly increased their sense of the fragility of their own lives. I hope that her example of grace under the circumstances was of some comfort to them.
Photo note: This was not taken at the cemetery. I was respectful enough to leave my camera in my backpack, although that is not always the case.
Another photographer told me that trees are blacker this time of year. He thought it was because the sap was beginning to run, or not run. I had never noticed the blackness before, but it seems to be true. I took this picture a few days ago, because I thought I saw some moire in the fence. It seems to capture mourning in some strange way.
It was also pointed out to me yesterday that good digital cameras are built with several specific mechanisms especially designed to eliminate moire. If it's any comfort to the engineers who did this, their devices are working perfectly.
Posted by Dakota at March 17, 2005 06:34 AM