Francis' words for the title

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Dear Family and Friends,

Tomorrow - July 3, is the 1 ½ year anniversary of Francis’ death, the date last year, when I wrote “It’s Six Months Ago Today.” I think that’s why, during my daily walk to the cemetery just now, I got the idea of writing again.

You’re likely to think the subject of this email – “Francis’ words for the title” - refers to Francis' story and mine which I told you in my last entry 4 1/2 months ago I was writing.

But my writing partner's mother got seriously ill, and I was more absorbed in the poems that kept coming, and still come, though at a slower pace. So, after six productive meetings during which I did get started on writing our “story,” - to make a long story short, a poetry editor's article in the Mar Apr issue of Poets & Writers led to my getting from April Ossmann, a professional assessment of my poems. Her encouragement and “grading” as “strong,” “medium,” (& the default “weak”) led to the decision to write, not one, but two books – first a poetry collection, and then, our story.

Second result: By now I’m deeply engaged, with the help of a published poet from Washington state, Mike O’Connor http://mikeoconnorpoet.com/ (bio & photo there with more to come) who has become my Reader/Copy Editor, in “digging deeper,” as April advised, to revise the “medium” poems. It’s very engrossing, healing, work.

No need to look for a publisher. Our friend David Gawlik's “Caritas Communications” will publish the poetry collection first, and when it's ready - our story. David, like Francis was, is also a married priest as well as a photographer (extraordinaire,) and longtime editor of CORPUS Reports. Even though he lives in Wisconsin, and we saw him only twice a year, he became Francis’ and my dear friend since we started attending annual national CORPUS Conferences in 1990, - and Francis began attending them even in the late 80’s!

My energy has been so wrapped up in this writing - in addition to teaching a yoga class, and babysitting our godchild Rowan weekly, along with other things and gathering with friends – and now the necessary and enjoyable though time-consuming gardening, (not to mention caring for our sweet chickens!) – I have been jealously protecting time to write.

By the way, - Francis’ words for the title are:

Sing To Me And I Will Hear You The Poems

Here below are a few of them:

Elaine

You Gave Me No Clue January 17, 2011

I’d encounter you

at the annual King celebration *

I wasn’t in grief

- How could I be?

You came to accompany me!

You weren’t left out,

I found that out:

Surrounded at table by friends

who met yearly for this –

between speakers, awards

and the dinner itself –

I sensed in my gladness and laughter

a joy too expansive,

too deep to have come from me

alone.

No - I knew it was you

enjoying our friends

by living my life with me.

*Martin Luther King NAACP Dinner

Whoever Heard June 10/15, 2011

a more loving request

of his wife by a dying man

– to accompany you

by singing alone

our love-vow chant

as you passed?

Oh my love, not “request”

– but your gift to me.

Whoever heard

an answer like this

when the hospice nurse asked you

"What's holding you back?"

"It's the joy," you said.

Oh Francis, this joy

in our love beyond death

holds me here daily in prayer.

Nothing Can Fill June 19, 2011

this gargantuan gaping

hole of my loss -

except this:

my relief at sparing you

a widower's pain.

In Awe Of Providence

Dear Family and Friends,

I got a telephone call on Monday from Laura Kwerel the producer of Interfaith Radio in Washington DC who told me that Maureen Fiedler, a Sister of Loretto and host of Interfaith Radio has chosen Carolyn Barnwell’s radio story, “Sing and I Will Hear You” to be broadcast on 76 Interfaith Radio stations in the US beginning today until February 24.

If you want to View Interfaith Voices stations in a larger map, go here first -- http://interfaithradio.org/tunein then click the link at the head of the list.

If you used this direct link I already sent you on February 6 http://soundcloud.com/carolynbarnwell/sing-and-i-will-hear-you you already heard the 8 minute story.

But if you want to hear Sr. Maureen Fiedler introduce and conclude the same story with a follow-up, use this link: http://interfaithradio.org/node/1610

Laura explains: “To listen to your piece, fast-forward to 41 min 16 sec by clicking on the blue "play show" button at the top. (The fast-forwarding is tricky. I had to drag the little button to the right over and over, but it finally came.)

Because the first SALT story about Francis’ and me 15 years ago was done with visuals instead of with radio, it stayed in the archives. As a result I didn’t expect the wide dissemination that is developing with this radio story. So while it makes me feel a bit shy to have my grieving process aired so publicly, I can’t help but be in awe at how Providence works.

Since Francis’ death (Jan 3, 2010,) I’ve felt a progressively clearer call to write our story. Now my resolve is being supported in specific ways, -- not only with this unexpected “advance” radio story, but on the writing front itself.

I got a telephone call last week from Peg, the teacher of a one day workshop “From Memories to Memoir” for which I had signed up. (Even though my book will not really be a “memoir,” I thought I’d learn something.) Anyway, Peg called to say it was being postponed. But after a few conversations she proposed we become writing partners: In exchange for my giving her feedback as she writes her next book, she would give me feedback for mine. Of course I said yes. What an opportunity! We will meet every Saturday for two hours, beginning tomorrow. Although I’ve been journaling for weeks, even months, I’m ready for more direct, disciplined work. The timing now is ripe.

My reasons for writing? 1) Because I want to honor Francis. 2) It’ll be healing for me. 3) I’ve discovered my writing helps some people. Perhaps what I have to say will give voice to something that is not talked about much these days but which many experience. My 89 year old sister-in-law, Mary McGillicuddy Dever, told me at least twice during our telephone conversations after Francis’ death and before her own last month at 89, that -- this grieving period “is a very special time.” Her obituary puts it well: “Following Jim's passing, Mary said she felt there was only a veil separating them.”

The radio story and the writing offer seem to me clear signs I’m not only on the right track, -- the Universe, or Providence is even nudging me to do what I have to do.

Loving gratitude,

Elaine

PS My anatomy teacher told me after his workshop this afternoon over dinner that it’s good I’m letting go of my hesitancy in coming out publicly with what I have to say. Otherwise, he said, I’d be depriving people like my new friend Joanna in Washington state who lost her husband in August of the support Francis’ story and mine can give her. Joanna urges me to share with you this short poem I wrote on February 10:

The Sweetest Yet

The fruits of this love

we nurtured together

are ripe for the picking.

Their sweetness this season

of our seeming separation

exceed any flavor we savored before.

Link for 8 minute interview with Elaine on grieving process

Link for 8 minute radio interview with Elaine on grieving process

Dear Family and Friends,

In 1998 Francis I were subjects for a graduate student’s project for the SALT Center for Documentary Studies in Portland. So when Carolyn Barnwell asked me in late September to do the same on the topic of the grieving process, I agreed. She interviewed me many times at home, even staying overnight once to record my morning prayer-chants. She also came to my yoga class and to the little Chinese Restaurant afterwards where Francis and I used to go, a tradition I keep up.

For the title of her radio story on grieving, it was Carolyn’s idea to use Francis’ words. Explaining that the sense of hearing is the last to go, Francis told me, -- when he was near death -- “Sing And I Will Hear You.”

If you would like to hear this 8 minute radio story, use this link where you can immediately hear it without having to create an account: http://soundcloud.com/carolynbarnwell/sing-and-i-will-hear-you

It is also archived at the Public Radio Exchange where you would need to sign in:

http://www.prx.org/pieces/57494-sing-and-i-will-hear-you

A follow-up: Carolyn emailed this morning (January 21) to say that Public Radio in Seattle, station KUOW, aired it. As a result a woman from Washington state whose husband died last August emailed telling me: “Since his passing, I have mainly wanted to celebrate his continued presence in my life. Your story was the first to validate my way of grieving…..So much of your path with Francis reminds me of ours. Thank you for sharing.”

Love,

Elaine

January 2, 2011 Celebrating Francis’ First Anniversary of Death/Birth

Dear Family and Friends,

Last night I made by myself a big batch of the marinara spaghetti sauce Francis and I used to make together. It was a bitter-sweet experience to open the cans and put in the spices -- his part, as well as cut up the onions – my part. But I wanted to choose one of Francis’ favorite recipes to use for the special dinner and anniversary ritual Lynn, Lee, Rowan and I have been planning for some days to initiate tonight as an annual tradition: a gathering around the Japanese Stuartia tree where I would say a few words.

While the sauce was simmering (This authentic Italian recipe, a tradition my parents, calls for 5-6 hours of slow cooking,) I emailed: “Dear Lynn and Lee, I trust that when we gather outside with candles tomorrow night, around the Pepere/Francis tree, what I plan to say will be accessible to Rowan. It represents exactly what I feel and want to say, but in a child’s vocabulary (I think.) Agreed?” They agreed

So just after our spaghetti & homemade sauce dinner this evening we four plus a close friend walked out into the dark with our lighted candles (dusty pink 100% bees wax candles we’ll use every year,) and circled Francis’ tree. Rowan placed at its foot a large beautiful specially selected seashell, and I spoke out into the night something close to what I wrote last night:

Dear Francis, -- be-loved Francis,

*One year ago very late on this night, you died. That’s why we’re here, -- Rowan, Lynn and Lee, and our longtime friend Nicki. We are your loved ones standing here around your Francis tree, your Pepere tree, holding candles on this first anniversary of your death.

*We miss you terribly, but we come to celebrate love that never dies. We love you and you love us. In fact our love keeps on growing – just like this tree that will slowly grow very tall and wide.

*We also come to celebrate because you don’t have pain in your back anymore.

*And you can go anywhere now, just like the dragonfly** that winged off happily in its wonderful new world of sun and air.

*Since you can go anywhere, you live in our hearts, -- in the hearts of those you love, and in the hearts of those who love you. So we can ask you to help us whenever we need help.

*Because we are like the waterbugs that still live under water, we don’t know where you went. But we will find out when we join you someday.

*Right now, though, we want to live our lives just as fully as you lived yours. We want to spread around love to other people the way you did.

Then we sang the chant I sing every day: “Set me as a seal upon your heart, for love is (more) strong than death” (Song of Songs 8:6). Rowan stood on the other side of the tree’s slim trunk and delicate branches bearing buds in readiness for spring. Since I was holding for others the melody they were quickly learning from me, I was grateful for Rowan’s heartwarming, sweet, smiling face. It’s she and her clear voice which prevented mine from cracking.

** I highly recommend Water Bugs and Dragonflies, Explaining Death to Young Children by Doris Stickney. It’s a most apt fable alluding to what St. Paul called,
-- in I Corinthians 15:44 -- our “spiritual body.”

Elaine

Sharing a poem - "Sweet Searing"

PS I want to share the poem that emerged in the last few days pondering what I wrote last year, and sent you in “Deep Time.”

Sweet Searing December 23, 2010

Your sweetness, Francis,
is seared on my soul.

By now your spinal cancer pain
has chained you to your bed.
I floss your teeth,
I help you pee.
And what do you say to me?

“What a wonderfull moment this is!
My beloved is here with me.
You look good, you feel good,
and you are so good to me.”

O Francis dear
your sweetness is seared
deep deep within my soul.

Deep Time This Year Too, December 21, 2010

Dear Family and Friends,

Since September 24 I have been rereading the blog entries posted here on the corresponding day this year. I had already decided to set aside the time between Solstice and the date of Francis’ death, January 3, as an overall/not rigid retreat time for myself. (I’ll still go to church, food pantry, join in a Christmas dinner and lead the dances of universal peace New Year’s Eve.) But I want to go deeper into Francis’ journey and mine -- his transition and death.

So what a lovely coincidence to discover: On this date last year the entry was called “Deep Time!” Just what my retreat time beginning tonight, after a small gathering at a friend’s home, was meant to be! So it’s deep time for me again this year! In fact I know Christmas will never be the same for me again.

Last year’s “Deep Time” entry of Dec 21 relates the extraordinary afternoon when Lee and Lynn recorded Francis and me singing together. So I can’t resist copying it here for you, to save you the trouble of digging it out in earlier posts. It reveals Francis’ holy joy.

I thank you all for your kindness! And thank you for keeping me in your prayers.

My Christmas letter is attached below last year’s December 21, 2009 “Deep Time.”

Love, Peace & Joy,
Elaine

Monday, December 21, 2009 Deep time
Dear Family and Friends,

It could happen sooner or later. No one knows when. But we're told to get ready even though Francis is eating again, and with "some gusto!" -- his words. (That gourmet macrobiotic food prepared by Meg
Wolff and company may prolong his life for all we know!)

As I'll share below, Francis and I also had an extraordinary day yesterday.

BUT A NEW PHASE NOW
Yes, we're in a new phase now. I need to reserve my energies for Francis himself, for preparations for his funeral and for giving all the space needed to experience this precious time together when the veil is thin.

Pam Shay his hospice nurse said people nearing death need time to do deeply personal work. She explained that those who haven't experienced close at hand the process of losing a loved one tend not to understand that the terminally ill find visiting very tiring. Though they can rally for visits and look good, they're exhausted afterwards.

This truth was made obvious to us today: After talking with three members of VNA's Hospice staff, and after a visit with Fr. Mike McGarrigle, 85, a close friend for 50 years, Francis was wiped out for the rest of the day. In fact he's been sleeping since 3:00 pm until he surfaced around 8:00 pm for a little supper.

Pam made an excellent suggestion however, to give friends an avenue without tiring him. Those who want to talk to Francis could send me an email with the Subject line reading:
MESSAGE FOR FRANCIS.
I will then read him your messages when he's awake and rested. It's likely I won't be able to answer your emails as I would really want to since it would take time away from Francis. But you can reach him this way and I know he would welcome the connection and returns your love.

He's been bed-bound since Friday night the 18th because standing and sitting in a chair are too much of an ordeal for him. Luckily reclining fully is, as it has been all along, a pain free position. Sitting in bed at a 45 degree angle is also okay for a short while.

He's such a sweetheart! In his situation, can you imagine his saying to me tonight after I helped him use the urinal while lying in bed, and then flossed his teeth, -- "This is another wonderful moment, -- sharing the little chores of getting ready for bed. My beloved is preparing me.....You look good, feel good and are good to me."

How can I not love a man like this ?! I met him in 1968 -- 41 years ago. That means I have been in love with this 82 year old man of mine for half his life!

There are many extraordinarily ordinary moments like this throughout the day. One very big one happened yesterday when Lynn and Lee came for their weekly visit. Surprisingly, this visit totally energized Francis, not just in the moment either, -- but for the rest of the day!

While we all ate our favorite Hot & Sour Soup (from Stir Crazy's on Congress St) which Lynn and Lee brought us, we talked about funeral plans, weeping and laughing while Rowan lay sleeping on our bed.

Then Lee went out to buy a microphone and set things up on our computer to record Francis and me singing the entire Lord's Prayer in Aramaic. I can't thank Nicki Piaget enough for this suggestion! Nor can I describe my joy seeing the earnest proud look on Francis' face as his voice got increasingly stronger and surer. My joy increased seeing Lee and Lynn's response to those beautiful middle eastern melodies! As the last note echoed in the room we spontaneously cheered. And the recording caught that joyous burst.

(When Lynn and Lee come tomorrow to talk finances, I'll ask them what it would cost to make lots of copies of this recording to give away after the funeral.)

Well, that mystical moment together didn't get lost on Francis. When I greeted him this morning he was so happy that I grabbed a pen to catch every word.
He said: "This is the deluxe way of getting up! Everything is falling into place! There are lots of wonderful moments! Wonderful, wonderful moments! NOW! They just keep coming! I'm amazed how much energy I had all day yesterday...It was unlike any other day! After two hours I usually cop out. But I was with it all day. I couldn't believe what was going on and on and on into the evening. Then I had a good night's rest."
Oh my God! What a gift to hear him talk like this!!!

I have so much to write about, and will continue sharing this story of Francis' journey sometime in the future. But except for skeleton outlines, detailed updates as I've been writing will have to wait until later, or at least until all the funeral preparations are completed. I want to dig out photos of Francis, and letters, and papers, and artifacts that illustrate the richness of his life.

It's been a life of great integrity. It's something to celebrate! Even as grief creates the numinous time and spaces that deepen the soul.

Dr. Sherwin B. Nuland put it so well in his book which I picked up years ago: How We Die, Reflections on Life's Final Chapter: "In ages past, the hour of death was, insofar as circumstances permitted, seen as a time of spiritual sanctity, and of a last communion with those being left behind....For many this last communion was the focus not only of the sense that a good death was being granted them but of the hope they saw in the existence of God and an afterlife." p. 256

Elaine

Deep Time this Year Too + Christmas Letter

Dear Family and Friends,
I want to thank you for your support of me this year, in whatever form it took; your kind concern was not the least. I also pray: May this season bring you deepening joy, whether from the world-shaking gift of Jesus’ birth, and/or the return of light on the Solstice , after the darkest day.

This most difficult year of my life since Francis’ death on Jan 3, though never easy, has also brought its gifts. Whenever people ask how I am, I repeat what a friend said at my 75th Haiti-benefit birthday party in September: “You look as if you’re both grieving and thriving,” and I add my own comment: “They go together. I’m thriving because I’m grieving.”

I’ve survived and thrived through prayer - my indispensable mainstay, - journaling, regular sessions with my spiritual adviser, and since September, -- writing poetry, an unexpected development, (even though I’ve written poems before.) A friend’s gift of poetry books by Donald Hall grieving the death of his wife Jane Kenyon, gave me the idea. Support from family, friends and community has also begun to restore my will to go on living.

It did me good to continue Francis’ and my regular traditions and practices: attending out of town conferences (Dances of Universal Peace, CORPUS, and Call to Action,) participating in Pax Christi meetings, monthly distribution of food at our parish’s pantry, and occasional cultural offerings like local theater. I’m glad I still teach one morning yoga class a week. And I delight in babysitting Rowan every Wednesday from 2:00 pm until after supper when Lynn picks her up.

After fetching her from school, Abigail, Rowan’s neighborhood playmate joins her for all kinds of activities that 6 year olds dream up. To name a few: visiting the chickens, (in summer - picking fruit, watching the frogs) indoor artwork, and always, - reading. Knowing how quickly events slip away with the winds of time, I invite special moments with them to be imprinted in my mind & heart. For example, Rowan sitting on my lap at the computer typing a note (all by herself) asking our neighbor Matt if we could visit. Then, watching them run up the street to see his three big Pyrenee dogs, larger than they are! En route home Rowan yelled to Abigail “Wanna gallop like a horse?” And off they bounded down the street. What delight their contagious joy!

Another indelible moment this week: Rowan sitting on my lap while I read her stories from Free to be You and Me. I laughed right out loud during one story about a girl wanting to join the boy’s baseball team. Then, reading a sad story, -- since my emotions are very close to the surface, -- I wept. So Rowan is learning about grief. An outstanding grief book for children is Waterbugs & Dragonflies by Ruth Stickney.

Christmas will forever be a sacred time for me. Beginning with Christmas Eve, 2009, Francis and I had dialogues in which he shared, in an extraordinary way, his thoughts about his approaching death. I am now rereading (on the corresponding day this year,) everything I wrote last year which is posted. I also plan to listen to the recordings of those conversations, tears or not. I need and want to go through the grief, not bypass it. Then in the new year I will begin writing our story, -- my “God-willing-book.”

I’m reading less but writing more these days. Even so, the title of a book which offers a comprehensive look at how the various religions, east and west, view death, supports my view, -- and more than just my view, -- my conviction:
La Mort Est Une Autre Naissance (Death Is Another Birth,)
Love,
Elaine