Remembering when

This past weekend was everywhere devoted to remembering lost lives. When someone close to us dies, no matter the circumstance or reason, we strive to remember their face, see their smile, feel their touch, and even hear their voice. We think our hearts will break, but they don't and, somehow, we continue to live life and find joy withou our friend, lover, parent, brother. This past weekend was everywhere devoted to remembering lives lost. Next weekend another remembrance will take place in San Francisco at the Aids Memorial Grove. It is the 20th anniversary of the founding of the grove. Volunteers work to maintain the grove and to remember and heal their broken hearts. Through the years of my own life the list of those I fear to forget grows longer. When a name is added, there is renewed pain from previous losses. Sounds gloomy, but it isn't all tears and fears. Once the initial pain eases, I begin to remember the good times, the way he made me laugh, the camping trips, the skiing trips, the late night conversations and the early morning breakfasts. I remember his first visit to my family of origin in the rural south - a mixed race couple with a baby in the 80's - may as well have been the 60's). I remember the courage it took for him to be there with us and the courage my grandmother had when she walked into church on Sunday morning holding Robert's arm. I remember the pride he felt when his children made a goal or an A or walked the stage for a diploma.
If we are lucky, the one we lost remains with us because we choose to commemorate in some way their existence. Sometimes privately, more often publicly, memorializing the life they shared with us. We plant trees, build shrines and monuments. We scatter ashes and place flowers in special places. We write poems and tell stories about our time with them and we give away money in their honor. Remembering in this way helps me to heal the wounds. It eases the pain and brings me joy and peace. The heart and soul of a relationship are not lost when one person dies, it certainly changes and then it takes creativity and imagination to refocus the relationship and, in doing so, build new ones. I think of the healing power of collective remembering which I witnessed this past weekend and I feel a renewed energy and commitment to this cause for which I write and dream.

Blogging rights

I looked up the definition of "blog" and "tweet" since I have only a vague notion of the difference. Now I am confident this is truly a blog, and since it is a blog, I needn't be concerned if I don't write everyday. Unlike Julia, I have no recipe experiences to entertain you with so have decided to entertain you with a quilt project. Think of it as an art form and wrap yourself in the warmth of it.

Update on trip planning: my back pack currently weighs in at 7.4 pounds - certainly less than the 2 stones recommended but probably not as much as it will weigh once I add in the chocolate and water. By the way, speaking of essentials, does anyone know where the coffee comes in?
I have noticed, seriously, how light weight equipment is these days. My sleeping bag weighs two pounds and could almost fit in my pocket-what a wonderful invention. Last time I backpacked in Europe, I am sure my pack weighed closer to my age and I wasn't looking forward to that possibility again.

Passport photo and app are in the mail.

CHECKLISTS

I am a list maker, I confess.  I make lists of daily life and it's enhancements.  When making a list, I place a small box next to each item.  The purpose, and the greatest satisfaction behind list making, is to put a check mark in the box.

This week's list contains an item critical to my pilgrimage:  a passport.  The last time I used my passport was in 1979.  I spent three weeks in Europe (mostly England and Paris) with my dearest friend, Mary.  ...and I still had dark hair.  Mary is the person who inspired my own path to education.  She believed in me when I wasn't so certain.  She encouraged me to take the first step - the application process.  Every acceptance and every exam or paper that followed, were shared with her.  With angst and anxiety, I shared with her my certainty that, this time, I would surely fail to get it right.  Mary said I could and I did  and she made me laugh right through to the other side.  By the end of four years, Mary was probably a little weary of her role as cheerleader, but she never waivered.    Not everyone has a Mary in their life.  Just think, one strong voice of support can make all the difference.  Collectively, those individual voices could blend in harmonious splendor to send someone  to college.  Check that off your list :-)

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart". Helen Keller

When Robert and I first met in the 70's we were each working to educate and sustain ourselves.  Robert was working evenings at 121 Leavenworth, helping youg people who were struggling with mental illness, and he took classes at SF State.  I worked nights as a nurse's aid at local hospitals and went to nursing school at USF in the daytime.  Sparks flew, as John Nickens will tell you, and the rest is history.By 1984 we had two beautiful children.  When it came time to educate them, we were determined to give them love and support in whatever field they chose to study, and wherever they chose to do that.  We stood by them, each in our own way.  Along with their aunts and cousins, we attended every graduation, clebrated every success and were united in believing there were no barriers for our children that could not be overcome.  I believe Robert, though we are now unable to see him or touch him, will feel the love we have for him and will be pleased by this scholarship fund in his name.  We continue to support and hold in our hearts a belief in the future of young people in our city, and yours.