I tried to believe But you know it’s no good This is something That just can’t be understood
I’ve moved the memorial page into another directory, which feels like a file-system expression of the process of moving on with life. A lot of people told me that the eulogy I delivered at Mom’s service touched them, and since I wrote the text out in advance, I’ve decided to make it available. I think it helps illuminate my state of mind, which is one of deep sorrow but not of hysterical grieving. At some level I’m devastated, but at another I’m at peace, and I think my father and sister feel basically the same. The end was swift, it was relatively painless, and it was gentle. She was not alone, and she knew how much we all loved her. If a cherished person must die, one cannot ask for much better than that.
Our good friend Tantek was probably the first to publicly note Mom’s passing, and beautiful journal entries were written by both Gini and Ferrett (also good friends) about the celebratory service, and Mom, and us. Comforting words were received from many, many more people, both by Web and by e-mail, and Kat and I thank you all. Your words have helped sustain and comfort us through a very difficult event.
It’s still very difficult to grasp. By definition, of course, my mother existed for my entire life. She always seemed eternal because, in my personal timeline, she had always existed; there was no time when she was not. Until now. How does one come to terms with that? I don’t know yet. I’ll find out over time, as most people eventually must.
I learned your love for life I feel the way that you would —I feel your presence I remember—