Fall and the Simchat Torah Moon
Sunday gratefuls: Judy. Death. Cancer. High Winds. Snow coming. Moderate Fire danger. Hawai’i. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Golden. Clear Creek Commons. Decision making. Mini-splits. Fatigue. Friendship. Kabbalah. Creativity. Ode. Tom. Bill. Paul. Kep. Emily. Shirley Waste and Septic. Ruby, who keeps running. Blizzaks. Ruth and Gabe. Ali Baba’s gyros. Adapting. Politics. Climate change.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Judy
Azrael. The angel of the fourth phase. A visitor with whom I’ve become well acquainted over the last couple of years. In Islam a leaf falls from the tree beneath God’s throne. A name written upon it. Azrael then has forty days to separate the soul from the body.
Pneumonia Kate often said is the friend of the elderly. Azrael. When she realized her time had come, Kate invited Azrael to visit. Death is not an enemy. Not a tragedy. But a completion. A sign that life has finished and the journey after has begun. Whatever that journey may be.
Got a text from my friend. I’m in home hospice now. Could you come visit in the next two weeks? Of course. How about tomorrow? I’m leaving town for Hawai’i on Monday. Would 11 am work? Of course. I’ll see her then.
She and I have shared a cancer journey. We inquired about each others surveillance numbers, treatments. She often said this beast will kill me but not today. That day comes closer. Her leaf has fallen, perhaps a while ago.
When I got her text, I sat in my chair and cried. And cried. Azrael may not be an enemy, but the disappearance of people we have known and loved will always hurt.
Where do they go, those who die? We know this for certain. They leave us behind. No matter how good the death or how bad they are gone. That smile. That touch. Those memories. The wonder and the pain. That soul lifted out and gone.
My mother’s memory a blessing now. Even my father’s now, too. Kate a companion of the heart, her wisdom still teaching me. Jon still a conflicted absence, but sometime, some day what will remain is his love for his children, his gentle manner toward life, that art he made from the beaten and discarded metal left by the road. Judy, her food. Her sharing. Her kindness. But still. All will be gone.
I wish them all well on their journeys whatever they may be. And I hope that when I join them others will wish me well too.
Drove over to Golden yesterday to look at Clear Creek Commons. I went on a Saturday. The leasing office closed. I couldn’t get in. Will do when I get back from Hawai’i. On first impression it looked more enclosed than I’d imagined though it is smack downtown and overlooks Clear Creek. Imagining myself in it I felt claustrophobic. Compared to the open space around me on Shadow Mountain. No Lodgepoles. No Mule Deer. No Elk. No Mountains or Foxes. No Aspen.
Though. I adapt well and have lived in a similar environment in Irvine Park in St. Paul and near Loring Park in Minneapolis. Happily. Not by any means ruling it out. Each place has its initial negatives. Hawai’i the lack of friends. Minnesota its brutal winters.
My turn as the theme master for my Ancient Brothers and I chose the theme of decision making. How do you make decisions? What were the best and the worst you’ve made? Wanted something that was existential for me. Decisions are for me.
One matter I’ve not taken into account well enough, I think, is my continuing fatigue. I may not have the energy for a new start in Hawai’i or a house anywhere.
