Ashes to Ashes

By Meteor Blades

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight
On the ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.
My Spirit is still alive…
-- Hopi prayer

My sister-in-law was a lifelong Christian, but five years ago, when she updated her will and advance directive, she chose this animist prayer as the only one she wished read at her funeral. On Saturday, I read it aloud inside a non-denominational chapel before family and friends and a few dozen people I’d never met. A prayer for the living from the dead.

The Hopi believe, as my sister-in-law believed, in a Great Spirit, an all-powerful creator, teacher and purifier of humankind. Since Wednesday, if my sister-in-law’s beliefs were right, she has been with the creator, doing whatever gets done in the afterlife. Like most believers, she assumed the afterlife’s doings would be pleasant, but after that, like most believers, she got a little vague. Perhaps she’s now singing hymns, perhaps she’s one bright dot in a shining constellation, perhaps she’s only what we remember.

Without regaining consciousness, she died in that trite way of hundreds of thousands of human beings in the past century – after being struck by an out-of-control drunk driver. He and two passengers died instantly. My sister-in-law – or some part of her - hesitated for two days, then left us. I’ve never said a family member’s real name on a blog before, but let me say hers, Veronica.

Veronica’s daughter survived with scratches. My wife is abundantly banged up - with several broken bones including nose, teeth, fingers, arms and ankles - but no organ damage and an excellent prognosis. Platinum pins and rehab will make her good as new in a while. Or so the docs say. She missed Veronica’s funeral, but she’ll mend.

The seven of us, my wife, her brother, Veronica, her two daughters, my stepson and I are exceptionally close, but now we are six.

Anyone who regularly attends pastordan’s Sunday prayer Diary at Daily Kos knows I’m not a praying man. Not for many a year. But this past week I’ve been surrounded by people who do pray. Not the least of whom have been the hundreds who turned up here, here, here, here, and in my e-mail box to offer their prayers (positive energy, good wishes and practical help) for my family. I’m not much of a crying man either, but reading your messages drew a few tears. Thanks so much to each of you, my virtual friends and acquaintances. My wife says thanks, too.

Billions of people have already died on this planet. For eons, death has been more deeply pondered, I suspect, than anything else. So I shouldn’t have expected any revelations. Yet I wish I had acquired some wisdom to pass along from my experience this week. None seems to have come my way. Poets, philosophers and preachers provide but little assistance when death comes riding up all sudden like. Neither did I gain comfort from the well-intentioned mention by others of their own tragedies. My grief and pain are not vicarious. Existentialism may be the right perspective, but it’s not a bit soothing at that moment the blood of someone you love goes cold. Intellect and emotion are uncomfortable partners.

Countless people I’ve met are immovably certain about where they will go and what they will do in the afterlife – or at least what their choices are - just as they are certain that Thomas Jefferson couldn’t have fathered children by a slave or that blogging will replace mainstream journalism. My sister-in-law’s youngest daughter thinks Veronica is in heaven, her eldest thinks only the void follows death. I declare no certainty. I doubt all, deny none, although I am pretty sure L. Ron Hubbard’s version is bogus.

I do know with certainty that most of the dead are soon forgotten. Not that we don’t lament all our lives the passing of a person who was close to us. We’re lucky, however, to have even the names of a handful of our ancestors. Who knows a single detail from the lives of their great-great-grandparents? If we are not headed for the bosom of Jesus, Lucifer’s lair or Allah’s paradise, only the Deep Nothingness, then, once dead, our only remnant lives in the imperfect memories of the eyewitnesses to our earthliness - eyewitnesses soon to be gone themselves. In that light, the Hopi prayer offers some consolation, just like Blue Oyster Cult’s line: Seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun and the rain. We can be like they are.

Tibetan Buddhists pray prodigiously for their great-greats and many ancestral generations beyond. They say the 49 days after death are the most propitious time to engage spiritually for someone who has died because the dead are said to have a stronger tie with their old life then, and may be helped most at this time. Seven weeks. I suppose that’s as good an artificial boundary for formal grieving as any.

Death, near-death and impending death have clustered around me and mine these past 19 months. Three have paid Charon, one has his coin at the ready, and I almost went for that ride myself a year ago. I can't say I've seen the Boatman in person, but I've caught his reflection a couple of times. It doth, as our linguistic ancestors were wont to say, give one pause.

So, being paused and being needed now far more in the real world than the virtual, I can't say what's next. My plans must be flexible given my wife's needs. My stepfather is deeply ailing, too - he's 82 in June - and I've been trying to be with him and my mother as much as possible. So I don't know how much I'll be around, and I can't say for sure when I'll return or if I'll be back with as much blog vigor.

To the many people who e-mailed me asking where they might sent flowers or other sympathetic gifts, my wife and I thank you for your thoughtfulness. You will cheer us best by contributing to the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation or the Native American Rights Fund.

Comments

[DHinMI]

None of us have a right to expect to be "allowed in" to the lives of people we only know online. But it's a strange thing, this form of online discussion that I dove into in earnest over at Daily Kos in the Spring of 2003. Since then I've often found myself wondering about "friends" I've never met in person, most of whose voices I've never heard, many of whose names I don't now and probably never will know.

But despite that distance, I still find myself caring about people in "the blogosphere," and I know many folks care about you and were struggling with how best to expresses their sympathy, support and condolences to you and your family. Thanks for being so generous in providing a forum for people to express their thoughts and wishes for you and your loved ones.

May all the wounds of your entire family heal fast and heal fully.

[ttagaris]

I just wanted to let you know that over the past year and a half, there is no shortage to what I have learned about politics from your scribblings online. Tonight, I learned a bit about life. Thank you again.

I am not even going to attempt to be poetic or profound--just a simple paragraph or two to let you know that your family will be in my thoughts and prayers tonight.

God bless,

Tim

[em dash]

MB,

Grief's rain fills many streams
which ebb and flow
and finally soothe.

-Davi Walders

Please accept my condolences on the loss of Veronica. I have made contributions to both charities in tribute to the strength and wisdom of your family. Best wishes for a full recovery for your wife and Veronica's daughter.

Em

[Mike S]

I'm so sorry. I've thought about you and your family often since I heard the news of the accident. I know I don't really know you but I'm pretty sure your wife and family are lucky to have a man of your deep thoughts and introspection at this time. I hope only for the quickest and easiest recovery for all involved. If there is anything at all that I can do please don't hesitate to ask. Everything is just 20 minutes away here in LA. I can be there in ten.

My thoughts will remain with you and your family.

[Jérôme]

MB

I have thought of you a lot in recent days, and the longer your silence, the worse I felt, and I am so sorry to finally receive such terrible news.

My thoughts are with you and your family, and especially with the children of Veronica, who will need all the strength of your family.

I hope you will allow me this little political transgression, but drunk drivers are criminals, and should be prosecuted as such. So many pointless deaths that cause innumerable private tragedies like yours but no collective reaction. Why this is acceptable to society I will never understand.

Thanks for sharing your story. I hope that you we will still see you around.

[Bionic]

I am sorry to hear about your wife's sister, but glad she didn't hover between life and death too long.

As others have said, we have managed, because of our virtual connection, to claim a kind of kinship with people we have never met, so my heart hurts for yours with this news.
I can also claim another kinship too, that prayer was one we said at my own sister's memorial service, almost 22 years ago.

I hope we will see you back in the land of the blogging soon, with your wife well and your step father too. But if not, please remember all of us out here whom you have touched and been grateful for it. Good luck in all your endeavors.

[DemFromCT]

MB-

Nothing profound comes to me. I am saddened by life's unfairness, but that's a burden we all must bear in our own lives, like it or not. We are here to share that burden, in small ways, perhaps, but nonetheless we are here volunteering to do so. Yet, balancing that with needed privacy is a tricky thing to do.

The best way, the only way, is for you to know that we are here and react to that as you see fit. We will respect your wishes and accept both grief and joy as part of the human condition. Know you and your family are in our thoughts.

[tulip]

It's a brand new thing, this virtual friendship we all share. With none of the details, associations or sensory perceptions that we use to move through daily life, with none of the standard conventions, signals or milestones, we know each other only through what we give, what we chose to offer.--and for some reason I don't quite understand, over time, it goes straight to the heart. You have given a lot. You are a true blue guy. I am grateful to have some tangible way of expressing my affection and concern for you & your family, and thank you for naming these 2 worthy charities.

Be well. All the best to you and yours.

[Pete]

It's sad that it is often in tragedy that we have our most lucid intervals. I've been catching your material at DKos and now here since I "discovered" blogs, even finding inspiration to do my own (though rather poorly at times I'm afraid). While I've always appreciated your writing, I've never read anything that moved me like that.

Death puts life in perspective. It's altogether too short to idle away on misplaced priorities, something I have found in the deaths of loved ones but then forgot soon thereafter only to be coldly reminded later. Here's hoping blogging can be once again a priority for you, but if not then thanks for all the great material and may your newly rekindled priorities bring you and your family health, happiness, and fulfillment.

[NoIvory]

When I wonder about my great great grandparents and others I think about things that I do that seem nonsensical. Then I think hum, I wonder if so and so loved to read the newspaper by skimming all the headlines first and then saving the best for last. I may not know or remember my past, but I know it's a part of my present. What I've learned from death is that the immediacy of the moment took some time to show up in my actual experience of living. I just wish whoever had planned all of this had left out the pain.

[Chris Clarke]

MB;

My heart goes out to you. I have been where you are too many times. My wife and I are very fortunate in that her brother survived - just barely - being hit by a red-light runner two years ago, but I have lost a few close friends, one of them very close.

It sucks. There's no redeeming wisdom to be had in such situations, other than what Pete offers above.

I'm usually hesitant to make judgements about other online folks, but I'd venture the opinion that Veronica was lucky to have her family. Sounds like you were lucky to have her. I'm sorry for your loss.

[Susan S]

I am a praying person and will remember your family in the coming days. Sorry there isn't more that I can do.

[Abby]

Amen to what Susan S. said.

I'm pretty sure that Hubbard's wrong too. This practising Christian believes in eternal life, but I'm not sure that we're conscious of ourselves as individuals at that point, but words fail. I am very sorry for your loss.

[Ghost of Joe Liebling's Dog]

MB, I'm so sorry.

[liza sabater]

This is one of the most beautiful eulogies I've ever read. Thanks MB, for bringing poetry, beauty and courage into your life and ours.

Peace,
liza

[Eileen]

Please accept my sincere condolences on your loss. My best to you and your family. You are all in my thoughts and prayers.

[Roxanne]

Peace to you and your family.

[Geeno]

MB - I have admired and learned from your writing, and I wish I had some great wisdom to offer you. Death gives little to the survivors. If, like me, you lack faith in the afterlife you are left clutching at the straws that possibly you may learn something from this. But the only finding I had was in how much I could alleviate the suffering of my fellow mourners. I contented myself with this, and found some measure of satisfaction in helping loved ones cope.
Death rites are for the living. Give your love and assistance to those touched by the loss of Veronica and allow your heart to be healed - as much as possible - by so doing.

[Baseballgirl]

MB-

I'm so sorry to hear this news. All of my best positive thoughts are with you and your family.

Brenda in Lincoln, NE