How do we say Goodbye
Feb. 24th, 2004 08:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pluralit was Thursday morning
I had spent the day before on a plane
thirteen hours of uncomfortable waiting
met at the airport by a old friend and taken to join the rest of my boys
sitting, talking, being anything so long as not to be entirely alone
with the shock and bewilderment that we all felt
my host, one of my best friends in this world, and I,
arose fairly early took his dog max, and our departed friends dog toby, for a walk
something that had been a ritual of our friendship for many years
and would serve as a solid line of continuity
and the path to help us place one foot in front of the other
and continue on with life over the next several days
we took our time about it walking through the morning fog
talking when we needed to but mostly just walking in each others company
when we get back to his house I decide to start on breakfast
southwestern chicken omelets
my friends soon to be fiancee ambles upstairs in her bathrobe
in that most common instinctual drive for coffee
a couple of our friends drop by and we eat together
then schmooze while we prepare ourselves to bury one of our own
something none of us was in the least prepared to do
even I, having buried too many of my friends
did not expect this
could not expect this
ties cinched neatly into place, groomed and preened
we headed to the chapel for the service
in a small group we clustered outside the door
greeting family and friends waiting for all of our gang to arrive
to enter that door and crossing that threshold
seems too much for any of us to do alone or even in any group
save that of our entire gang
when we move into the chapel it is mostly full
soon it will become standing room only
as pallbearers we sit is a small group
together towards the back
it is a moving ceremony
the rabbi's words a mix of kindness and wisdom
and many friends speak on his behalf
as much for ourselves and to ourselves as for him
there is a brief procession to the grave site
a short ceremony there and his simple coffin is lowered into the ground
the boys and I stay behind after the assembled masses and family depart
we need to finish the job to bury our friend
it doesn't feel right that a stranger
should tuck him into his resting place
the cemetery keeper provides us with several shovels
and for one last time our group is whole, as we, choking on tears
cover our friend's casket and the flowers lying on top with dirt
our girlfriends and lovers stand close by giving us that moment
and it is cathartic to be able to channel
all the grief
all the helplessness
into an action
into doing something
and that it is physical, symbolic and spiritual
makes it ever so more intense
the grave filled, the slight mound lovingly smoothed over
we hold a short service of our own, just the gang
trying to find a way to say good bye to one of our own
each of us says our final words to our friend and a few words to each other
powerful hugs, not filled as usual with the vigor of young men but with the grief of old men
our strength, our composure, ebbs and flows like the tide with some unnatural rhythm to it
we each will go from the strength of the comforting to the shambles of one badly needing comfort
several time this day, but it is almost formalized almost as if there is an angelic traffic cop
guiding each of us through our grief
from finding a moment of strength to console another
to that moment of wavering uncertainty, as emotion seeps up from beneath the surface
then that release of a unbearable wave of grief
each seemingly orchestrated so that never are we without
either someone to console or someone to console us
depending on which stage of our cycle we are in
we go to the wake to pay our respects to the family
eat food with the community, continue that age old ritual of grief
we return home and I make a trip to the grocery store
to buy what I need to make dinner
the entire gang is coming over, none of us can be alone
each of us is needed by the others
I find my solace and my purpose in preparing this meal
cooking was a shared joy and a special bond between the recently departed and I
many nights had we spent in the kitchen preparing feasts for our crew
back when I lived in seattle he and I organized and planned our gangs weekly civility night
imagine the lives of five bachelors mostly wrapped up in high powered careers
much of our time together was spent blowing off steam
drinking, and dining together, our weekly poker nights
for the most part
we were a bastion of male misbehavior
and so civility night became our exception
we would gather, drink wine, cook a divine meal
sit like human beings at a table, with cloth napkins and pause our rushed lives
take a moment from the hectic days to savor the flavors and blessings of life
then retire to the living room to smoke and drink old liquors
read poetry and excerpts of philosophy discuss and debate the meaning of being a man
it was a time of communal introspection
focused on the personal, a time to put aside current events
set down the usual bullshitting and chit chat about our daily lives
and talk about our aspirations as men and as human beings
so this nights meal
prepare for our gathering of friends on any other circumstance
he and I would have prepared together, became in a way for me another catharsis
another act I could do to dispel the void of helplessness channel my grief and affections
I prepared dinner for twelve
a greek salad with a blush wine vinaigrette
chicken fettechine with a stone ground honey mustard cream sauce
baked roma tomatoes, stuff with fresh basil, bread crumbs and covered with asiago
pan seared asparagus with a cayenne and turmeric drizzle
I recruited many of the guests to take the position of prep chefs, cutting vegetables and trimming meats
my hostess slipped comfortably by my side, and together we assembled and served our collected group
we sat and ate, drank and bantered
it was a testament to my friends character
I believe
that we were unable to remember him without breaking into smiles and laughter
every story
every remembrance
brought a rush of forgotten joy, a reunification with times of glorious pleasure in our common past
we moved about after dinner speaking in small groups and around one am people started filing slowly out
long good byes and longer hugs heads slowly shaking in disbelief
"It is good to see you, I only wish it were another circumstance"
my friend and I gather the dogs and take a slow walk through the calm of the night
there is something about the death of someone you love that separates you from the world
makes you feel almost a ghost within it as even the familiar feels off kilter
when every sight greeting your eyes is tinted by the storm of emotion
seething just beneath your skin
everything you see just doesn't look right or normal
and your senses tune out whatever is unessential
the normal noises of society, people, animal and machinery, fades into the background
and everything seems to have an unearthly quiet
we were drained and exhausted from that particularly difficult day
saying goodbye to one we all so loved
being together
being there for each other
made it incredibly meaningful
and so much emotion, so much meaning
both spoken and unspoken
in one day can be quite exhausting
and while I am still in many ways, in the process of saying goodbye to that dear friend
a process that will continue, at least for the next year, with the reciting of the Kaddish prayer
[the traditional jewish prayer for the departed]
and likely in some ways, for the remainder of my life
it was this day, amongst my boys
that I was able to make the transition from utter shock and disbelief
to begin that process of saying goodbye
I had spent the day before on a plane
thirteen hours of uncomfortable waiting
met at the airport by a old friend and taken to join the rest of my boys
sitting, talking, being anything so long as not to be entirely alone
with the shock and bewilderment that we all felt
my host, one of my best friends in this world, and I,
arose fairly early took his dog max, and our departed friends dog toby, for a walk
something that had been a ritual of our friendship for many years
and would serve as a solid line of continuity
and the path to help us place one foot in front of the other
and continue on with life over the next several days
we took our time about it walking through the morning fog
talking when we needed to but mostly just walking in each others company
when we get back to his house I decide to start on breakfast
southwestern chicken omelets
my friends soon to be fiancee ambles upstairs in her bathrobe
in that most common instinctual drive for coffee
a couple of our friends drop by and we eat together
then schmooze while we prepare ourselves to bury one of our own
something none of us was in the least prepared to do
even I, having buried too many of my friends
did not expect this
could not expect this
ties cinched neatly into place, groomed and preened
we headed to the chapel for the service
in a small group we clustered outside the door
greeting family and friends waiting for all of our gang to arrive
to enter that door and crossing that threshold
seems too much for any of us to do alone or even in any group
save that of our entire gang
when we move into the chapel it is mostly full
soon it will become standing room only
as pallbearers we sit is a small group
together towards the back
it is a moving ceremony
the rabbi's words a mix of kindness and wisdom
and many friends speak on his behalf
as much for ourselves and to ourselves as for him
there is a brief procession to the grave site
a short ceremony there and his simple coffin is lowered into the ground
the boys and I stay behind after the assembled masses and family depart
we need to finish the job to bury our friend
it doesn't feel right that a stranger
should tuck him into his resting place
the cemetery keeper provides us with several shovels
and for one last time our group is whole, as we, choking on tears
cover our friend's casket and the flowers lying on top with dirt
our girlfriends and lovers stand close by giving us that moment
and it is cathartic to be able to channel
all the grief
all the helplessness
into an action
into doing something
and that it is physical, symbolic and spiritual
makes it ever so more intense
the grave filled, the slight mound lovingly smoothed over
we hold a short service of our own, just the gang
trying to find a way to say good bye to one of our own
each of us says our final words to our friend and a few words to each other
powerful hugs, not filled as usual with the vigor of young men but with the grief of old men
our strength, our composure, ebbs and flows like the tide with some unnatural rhythm to it
we each will go from the strength of the comforting to the shambles of one badly needing comfort
several time this day, but it is almost formalized almost as if there is an angelic traffic cop
guiding each of us through our grief
from finding a moment of strength to console another
to that moment of wavering uncertainty, as emotion seeps up from beneath the surface
then that release of a unbearable wave of grief
each seemingly orchestrated so that never are we without
either someone to console or someone to console us
depending on which stage of our cycle we are in
we go to the wake to pay our respects to the family
eat food with the community, continue that age old ritual of grief
we return home and I make a trip to the grocery store
to buy what I need to make dinner
the entire gang is coming over, none of us can be alone
each of us is needed by the others
I find my solace and my purpose in preparing this meal
cooking was a shared joy and a special bond between the recently departed and I
many nights had we spent in the kitchen preparing feasts for our crew
back when I lived in seattle he and I organized and planned our gangs weekly civility night
imagine the lives of five bachelors mostly wrapped up in high powered careers
much of our time together was spent blowing off steam
drinking, and dining together, our weekly poker nights
for the most part
we were a bastion of male misbehavior
and so civility night became our exception
we would gather, drink wine, cook a divine meal
sit like human beings at a table, with cloth napkins and pause our rushed lives
take a moment from the hectic days to savor the flavors and blessings of life
then retire to the living room to smoke and drink old liquors
read poetry and excerpts of philosophy discuss and debate the meaning of being a man
it was a time of communal introspection
focused on the personal, a time to put aside current events
set down the usual bullshitting and chit chat about our daily lives
and talk about our aspirations as men and as human beings
so this nights meal
prepare for our gathering of friends on any other circumstance
he and I would have prepared together, became in a way for me another catharsis
another act I could do to dispel the void of helplessness channel my grief and affections
I prepared dinner for twelve
a greek salad with a blush wine vinaigrette
chicken fettechine with a stone ground honey mustard cream sauce
baked roma tomatoes, stuff with fresh basil, bread crumbs and covered with asiago
pan seared asparagus with a cayenne and turmeric drizzle
I recruited many of the guests to take the position of prep chefs, cutting vegetables and trimming meats
my hostess slipped comfortably by my side, and together we assembled and served our collected group
we sat and ate, drank and bantered
it was a testament to my friends character
I believe
that we were unable to remember him without breaking into smiles and laughter
every story
every remembrance
brought a rush of forgotten joy, a reunification with times of glorious pleasure in our common past
we moved about after dinner speaking in small groups and around one am people started filing slowly out
long good byes and longer hugs heads slowly shaking in disbelief
"It is good to see you, I only wish it were another circumstance"
my friend and I gather the dogs and take a slow walk through the calm of the night
there is something about the death of someone you love that separates you from the world
makes you feel almost a ghost within it as even the familiar feels off kilter
when every sight greeting your eyes is tinted by the storm of emotion
seething just beneath your skin
everything you see just doesn't look right or normal
and your senses tune out whatever is unessential
the normal noises of society, people, animal and machinery, fades into the background
and everything seems to have an unearthly quiet
we were drained and exhausted from that particularly difficult day
saying goodbye to one we all so loved
being together
being there for each other
made it incredibly meaningful
and so much emotion, so much meaning
both spoken and unspoken
in one day can be quite exhausting
and while I am still in many ways, in the process of saying goodbye to that dear friend
a process that will continue, at least for the next year, with the reciting of the Kaddish prayer
[the traditional jewish prayer for the departed]
and likely in some ways, for the remainder of my life
it was this day, amongst my boys
that I was able to make the transition from utter shock and disbelief
to begin that process of saying goodbye
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goodbye
Date: 2004-02-25 02:05 am (UTC)this is the most amazing entry r.
i was so sorry to hear of your loss...my condolences.
im sure you have heard that over and over.
but i have a terrible lump in my throat
the departure of a dear friend is almost unbearable
but the gathering of your other friends
the boys
was needed.
take care
*kiss*