IT'S BEEN A WHILE

Today was bittersweet. The sweet was, well, sweet. For the first time in a while, I got on a motorcycle and rode. Mark took in a bike on trade that fit me easily. No windshield and some goofy buckhorn handlebars but I sit flat-footed which, while not a requirement, does make the maneuvering easier, especially when I've been out of the saddle for a time. This morning, I dusted off my gear - my gloves (where did I put my gloves?) , my helmet, my boots and my armor-plated jacket. Mark gave me the run-down, reminded me to take my phone and sent me on my way.I can't say it was eventful, just peaceful. I stopped at the vista point over Clam Beach to watch the waves then cruised through Fieldbrook, Blue Lake.... rolling out West End Road, I popped open the face shield and took in the warm smell of the mud, the trees, eau de equine. There is nothing like that feeling of the microclimates as you pass from shade to open and sunny then back into the dappled shadows.

It wasn't a long ride, only about 70 miles, but it relaxed me and prepared me for the bitter part of my day. I dropped my riding gear, changed clothes and tucked tissues into my pocket in preparation for attending the memorial for Phyllis Flores, my coworker who passed away almost a month ago. It was a nice service with her brother speaking then, in Native American tradition, chanted her on her way "across the river". It was beautiful and touching. I believe I saw her go and it didn't require much tissue. CR coworkers who also attended agreed that it won't be the same without her.

KEEP ME IN YOUR HEART FOR AWHILE....

As I drove past the mailroom this morning, I looked toward's Phyllis' regular parking place, knowing her car would not be there, thinking about visiting again then, somehow knowing I wouldn't.

I was at my desk, talking to a prospective student about the program when two coworkers entered my office .... red-eyed. "Not good", I think. I finish my conversation with the student, knowing they were waiting and knowing what they were there to tell me - Phyllis had passed away in the night. I wasn't surprised. I felt she was gone.

I'm still struck by the speed of it all. From sixty to zero in just a few months and I wondered if that was better than having lots of time to prepare. Is it better to KNOW for months or even years that your end is coming? Like the lyrics in my blog title, inspired by Warren Zevon, who in his final months put out his final album. A dark but sadly humorous collection that includes a cover of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door". A warped man he was. He had time to prepare as did his family, at least as much as you can prepare for that sort of thing. He obviously found a creative spot in the sadness to create poetry that would turn into lyrics out of what he was thinking.

Going quickly, as Phyllis did, was tough on her family. It was a whirlwind of hospital, doctors, surgery, Hospice, visitors (like me) that they'd never met but who came to see a friend and bring food (it's what we do). It must have been like a bad dream but, again, was over as fast as it started. I'm sure they didn't have time to prepare. I hope their Native American beliefs will guide them through the adjustment and they will be able to see her off with the help of friends and family.

Mark and I have a "final preparations" folder. Neither of us relish the thought of planning such things and, honestly, intend to hold "wakes" rather than funerals. We have ideas for music;. He wanted Dust in the Wind by Kansas but, geez, that's so overdone. I was a big Elton John fan in the 70's so had picked out Funeral for a Friend years ago but it seems so cliche' now Maybe it's time to revisit our plans. You never know what's around the bend. Maybe I'll go with some Warren Zevon.

On a Winter's Day In the Rain

I drove through campus at the end of this crazy Monday with mixed emotions. With the morning came the start of several classes in our department, an influx of nearly 70 people - excitement and confusion abound. The afternoon brought trepidation, the stomach churning that comes with the unknown. I was heading to visit a sick friend and, to be honest, I'm not very good at it. A coworker is faced with, not one but, two deadly diagnoses, either of which would be frightening. I'm a crier on a GOOD day so the emotions of standing at the side of a "sick bed" drain me. But old age has brought me to the realization that visiting the sick is not about me but about bringing comfort to someone who has been dealt a tough hand. I hope I'm up to the task of small talk and a positive outlook.

P has been on campus a little longer than my six years, the queen of our mailroom. I don't know her beyond our visits over piles of envelopes which have been regular and even daily at times, talking about families, often disagreeing about local events. She keeps a library of James Patterson books from which a number of us circulated the latest titles. She has been married for as long as I have with two grown sons and a young daughter, a middle-schooler who has been a joy to her parents but is now faced with a critically ill mom.

So I drove across town, frantically bumping through the music on my iPod to avoid anything that might bring tears. Finally... Santana! Thank you, Carlos.

I know I gave no comfort to her family and sat with P for only a few minutes since she wasn't feeling well. I brought her some chocolate for a time when she was feeling up to it and held her hand a bit. When I left, I was struck with the fact that, only two months ago, she was at work wondering if the nagging pain was a returning back issue or a recurring kidney stone. I wonder if I'm doing everything I can to assure the health of my family and even if there is any such assurance. Then the tears came.

My blog title came from "White Bird" which came to mind easily when I remembered listening to the song on her stereo in the mailroom and learning she was a big fan of David LaFlamme and his band, "It's a Beautiful Day". "White Bird....in a golden cage...on a winter's day...in the rain..... " So, I will say a prayer and listen to White Bird a few more times and hope that she has the strength to fight everything she is faced with.