Amazing Grace

Dear Boomers,

I was planning on blogging about my beautiful yogis and yoginis that I teach every day, about how their grace inspires me hourly, how their positive energy fills the rooms with joy and hope.  And I still want to do that, but at this moment, I cannot.

Sitting in the Ackerman student union this afternoon, one of my dearest, loving friends called to tell me that one of our dearest, loving friends has just died.  The life went out of me, out of my friend who was trying to hold back his sorrow for just a brief moment.  All of us who knew Bill since grammar school or high school loved him.  Bill died.  He had a massive heart attack that he briefly recovered from, then he relapsed, then minutes ago, he died.  He has three beautiful daughters and a loving wife.  And more friends than most.

Three weeks ago, we were all in Marin County gathered together for our 50th high school reunion.  There was so much joy among us that it was impossible to relate the deeper, subtle feelings that we all experienced.  Bill was present and accounted for with his dry humor and side of the mouth bon mots and his loving, gentle nature.  He was over-weight and his color was bad – pasty.  I watched him move awkwardly.  I was concerned.  More than concerned, I remarked to my friend that he didn’t look good.  I hate it when I know stuff is going to happen.  I feel like a witch, but I study bodies all day, work with people who have health problems, am conscious of things that go on with people inside and out. I can sense with more than just observation.

I want everything to go right back together again.  I don’t want my other Bill best friend to have died or my Sue best friend to have died or my Heddy to have passed so young.  I want humpty dumpty to put everything back together again.  I feel like a child who can’t figure out what is happening at the moment.

And yet, I know better.  I know that we are all in transition in life, just passing through but trying to spread good karma to all we touch in our lives.  I find comfort in that belief.  Bill was a great husband, a great dad, a successful man, and a great friend.  We were all so fortunate to have known him and have in in our lives for so long.

The student union is sparsely populated now.  Only ambient sounds remain in in the Tsunami area.  The sushi was only fair but I have a bitter taste in my mouth, so bitter I cannot swallow.  I have to teach in half an hour – two classes back to back – long ones – and I have to be present.  I’m going to dedicate my classes to Bill’s family and hope they get through this with grace and dignity, with love and hope.  I know that my best friend, Pat, went through this a year ago with her husband when he died of a heart attack,  and today this is a woman whom I admire and love because of her strength and endurance and caring.  She was Bill’s very close friend, too, and today she has to re-live some memories that are painful.  I wish I was with her to comfort her and talk about Bill, talk about Herb.  Perhaps we’ll do that later next week when we gather together again to mourn a life well lived.

The infinite universe is abundantly good, I know.  It’s just at this moment, there are some clouds passing by.




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