[Lilly and I recently attended a] memorial service for a friend of mine. I thought it would be mostly about remembering Bill. The service included our singing The Old Rugged Cross and O Holy Night and My Tribute. The reading selections for Bill’s memorial service were read from the books of second Corinthians and John. Almost none of the service was about Bill.Bill’s memorial service was designed to tell us that Jesus is the only way and why. It left me wanting to know something about Bill, who we knew only from dancing. He was a veteran and an artist. He was a man much beloved by his children and step children. He was a really memorable guy.

Lilly asked me if I had any thoughts about the service. I read her this poem I wrote in 1995

HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

In olden times speech had a different purpose.
Red would be described as
“Red - as the color of the blood shed by our Lord Christ Jesus
when he was on the cross to take away our sins.”
and not just red, but everything was specified that way
which now seems strange, but which helped souls
remember who they were, their purpose and their goal.
This is not the way we speak today and we have lost some
sense of cosmic place and the meaning of our lives,
not that I’d resurrect the old, it does not fit for me.
Today in meditation I focused on the light stream
through my body, seeing light, asking that today
I am aware of being filled with light and being in the light.
I do not talk of red as the color of the blood
of someone dead two thousand years, and still,
there’s something I am trying to recall.

There was recently a Woody Allen interview on NPR. He was asked if his personal philosophy was as dark as his films. I’ve seen several - Love and Death was memorable. Mr. Allen said that he was much taken by a story he heard about two women at an American plan [meals included] Spa. One woman said, “The food is very bad here.” The second said, “Yes, and the portions are so small!” This is kind of his ongoing guidance. The food is bad, and the portions are so small. Life is full of troubles - and short.
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Sunday, November 15, 2008

  When Michele asked me to lead this service, I was thinking that it would be mostly animal stories-some humorous, some sad.  But as much as I love my patients, that sacred thread of connection has always included their people.  And I have been truly blessed to have some wonderful teachers.

When I began practicing 25 years ago, I decided to make house calls.  First to provide a private, compassionate way of performing one of my least liked tasks, euthanasia, and then later for elderly clients who either didn’t drive or who were unable to leave their homes. 

Francis Dill was one of those. The first time I went to her small house to trim the nails of one of her stray cats, I went alone thinking it wouldn’t take long.  Almost as soon as I arrived, the cat escaped.  Thinking it was a wasted trip, I prepared to leave but she motioned towards her kitchen table and invited me to have a cup of tea with her.  I realized that she wanted to talk. So I sat down and over the next few hours listened to her life story. 
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