In early January I wrote about the fact that I was taking a trip to Portland to visit a very dear friend who was dying of aggressive lymphoma. That visit was important to me as I was able to be with her in person and share some amazing time with her. We held hands and talked and talked, about what we meant to each other, what we cherished about each other, some of the lessons we had learned together and/or with the support of the other. Her partner and our friend who had driven me there from Portland went out for a walk together, giving us this gift of time together.
We shared a simple lunch, all four of us, and talked about some of the logistics of care for my friend, the fabulous hospice nurse who came every day, my friend’s hope that her father would be able to come to see her from the nursing home where he lived. (The hospice chaplain was working to make that happen.) After lunch my friend took a little nap and the rest of us cleaned up and talked a bit more. Once my friend was awake again, she and I sat close together and hugged and held each other.
I was aware of this altered state she was in. She had worked hard to be cured of the cancer but it ended up being too aggressive. Now she was in this state of grace, accepting the changes andthe fact that her time in our world was ending. She was calm, focused, clearing out the parts and things of her life that she was giving to others. With our last big soft hug filled with more love than I could have imagined, I knew this was my last time with her in person.
Two days after my return to Victoria, a group of 10 women from our women’s retreat group gathered at the home of one of us. Our Portland friend went back to our other friend’s home with her laptop, and we had a Skype session, all 12 of us. We took turns telling our friend loving things and we sang many of our camp songs. I had left a sheet of songs we might sing and our friends on the other end of our Skype session got to sing with us. We were on Skype for well over an hour. When I noticed how my friend was fading, I started to wrap up the session.
Much earlier (I think it was in December) my friend had asked me to share information about her with the others in our retreat group. We have a shared email list and so I had been sending information now and then. When I sent out information about this Skype session, other women started sending their thoughts about our friend and their wishes for her. My friend had stopped using her computer a couple of weeks before this, so I collected these thoughts and compiled them into an email that I sent my friend’s partner, who then read them to my friend.
My friend’s father finally made it to visit her, and our mutual friend (the Portland one) and I figured that was the final thing holding our friend here. We thought she would die within the week. But she didn’t. She died January 29 fairly peacefully, with her partner and three other friends present.
When I posted this information to our group, tributes to my friend started pouring in. Again I compiled everything sent into one word document. After the tributes stopped coming in, I sent that compilation to her partner as I believed it would give her partner some comfort. I have heard that it did.
My friend has left a legacy. Her work was stream and river remediation. During the time I knew her, a dam was being taken down and she walked the site and downstream and planned what to do to have the newly flowing water travel in the best ways to restore the land and do the least harm. She sent me photos regularly of the work being done, and more after the dam was gone. It was incredible. Her work was often very satisfying to her. One of the tributes that came in was from someone who lives near one of the areas she remediated. This woman told us that this year, for the first time in many years, the salmon had come upstream, up this remediated river, to spawn.
One small victory, with other small victories like it, made up a well-lived time on earth for my dear friend. Today is the two-month mark of her leaving this realm. I am finally ready to pay her the tribute she deserves, and so I’m sharing this story with you all.
(And as I finish writing this, my desktop image changed to one of my friend standing in the woods wearing snowshoes and dressed in bright colors, having an outdoor adventure. Seems a fitting end to this note to me.)
Blessed be.
We shared a simple lunch, all four of us, and talked about some of the logistics of care for my friend, the fabulous hospice nurse who came every day, my friend’s hope that her father would be able to come to see her from the nursing home where he lived. (The hospice chaplain was working to make that happen.) After lunch my friend took a little nap and the rest of us cleaned up and talked a bit more. Once my friend was awake again, she and I sat close together and hugged and held each other.
I was aware of this altered state she was in. She had worked hard to be cured of the cancer but it ended up being too aggressive. Now she was in this state of grace, accepting the changes andthe fact that her time in our world was ending. She was calm, focused, clearing out the parts and things of her life that she was giving to others. With our last big soft hug filled with more love than I could have imagined, I knew this was my last time with her in person.
Two days after my return to Victoria, a group of 10 women from our women’s retreat group gathered at the home of one of us. Our Portland friend went back to our other friend’s home with her laptop, and we had a Skype session, all 12 of us. We took turns telling our friend loving things and we sang many of our camp songs. I had left a sheet of songs we might sing and our friends on the other end of our Skype session got to sing with us. We were on Skype for well over an hour. When I noticed how my friend was fading, I started to wrap up the session.
Much earlier (I think it was in December) my friend had asked me to share information about her with the others in our retreat group. We have a shared email list and so I had been sending information now and then. When I sent out information about this Skype session, other women started sending their thoughts about our friend and their wishes for her. My friend had stopped using her computer a couple of weeks before this, so I collected these thoughts and compiled them into an email that I sent my friend’s partner, who then read them to my friend.
My friend’s father finally made it to visit her, and our mutual friend (the Portland one) and I figured that was the final thing holding our friend here. We thought she would die within the week. But she didn’t. She died January 29 fairly peacefully, with her partner and three other friends present.
When I posted this information to our group, tributes to my friend started pouring in. Again I compiled everything sent into one word document. After the tributes stopped coming in, I sent that compilation to her partner as I believed it would give her partner some comfort. I have heard that it did.
My friend has left a legacy. Her work was stream and river remediation. During the time I knew her, a dam was being taken down and she walked the site and downstream and planned what to do to have the newly flowing water travel in the best ways to restore the land and do the least harm. She sent me photos regularly of the work being done, and more after the dam was gone. It was incredible. Her work was often very satisfying to her. One of the tributes that came in was from someone who lives near one of the areas she remediated. This woman told us that this year, for the first time in many years, the salmon had come upstream, up this remediated river, to spawn.
One small victory, with other small victories like it, made up a well-lived time on earth for my dear friend. Today is the two-month mark of her leaving this realm. I am finally ready to pay her the tribute she deserves, and so I’m sharing this story with you all.
(And as I finish writing this, my desktop image changed to one of my friend standing in the woods wearing snowshoes and dressed in bright colors, having an outdoor adventure. Seems a fitting end to this note to me.)
Blessed be.
4424 Reads
- Posted by terre
- Apr 13, 2015
- Comments (5)
Readers Comments
mindyjourney wrote: Your friend left many lasting legacies...such a loving tribute <3. Brings me tears of how dear your love connects and reaches past shared plains of consciousness. Continued blessings of comfort, my friend.
KindMyst wrote: Dear Terre. Any one should be so honor to have you as a friend. Your commitment to your friend and helping her with her living journey is just heartwarming. You are an amazing friend and your dear friend was an amazing stuart of the earth. She left a legacy to help the river and waters keep their integrity and be waters of life. :)
mel37865 wrote: Thank Johor sharing
mish wrote: Beautiful sharing. x
melnotes wrote: Thank you for sharing this beautiful and touching story Terre, I too have tears in my eyes from reading this tribute. Another star in the sky shines brightly xx
